MaraRH- 


408E 


THE  JUDGMENT 


THE  JUDGMENT 


BY 
MARY  R.  H.  KING 


NEW  YORK 
THE  DEMILLE  PUBLISHING  CO. 

145  WEST  45TH  STREET 


COPYRIGHTED,  1911 

BY  MARY  R.  H.  KING  AND 

SUSAN  P.  H.  MATLOCK 


To  "  SISTER  " 

Truest  friend,  kindliest  critic,  staunch  supporter, 
co-weaver  of  my  story,  1  dedicate 

"  THE  JUDGMENT." 


2136S76 


THE  JUDGMENT 


CHAPTER  I 

JOSEPH  HOWAKD  loved  his  wife,  so  unselfishly 
that  her  self-centered  disposition  had  not  em- 
bittered or  estranged  his  love.  Years  had  ac- 
customed him  to  her  selfish  demands  until  it 
had  grown  into  a  habit  to  expect  of  her  no  sacri- 
fice. He  had  unconsciously  fostered  this  trait 
until  she  carelessly  demanded  of  others  sacri- 
fices such  as  she  herself  would  never  have 
dreamed  of  making. 

In  her  fashionable  set,  pretty  young  Mrs. 
Howard  was  a  well-known  favorite  of  the  social 
world.  Pampered  before  her  marriage,  she 
knew  no  reason  for  giving  to  irksome  domestic 
duties  the  time  she  lavished  upon  social 
pleasures. 

Though  at  twenty  she  was  a  wife,  no  demand 
of  motherhood  came  to  disturb  her  gay  serenity 
for  five  years.  The  child,  Eleanor,  was  like  her 
father,  determined,  truthful  and  magnanimous ; 
like  him  also  in  her  eager  impetuosity.  From 
him  she  inherited  her  tall,  straight  form,  her 
slender  patrician  hands  and  feet,  her  large 
brown  eyes  that  glowed  with  tender  love  or 
burned  and  blazed  with  indignation.  Her  head 


8  THE  JUDGMENT 

was  crowned  with  her  mother's  curling  hair, 
but  its  golden  tints  shaded  into  the  soberer 
shades  of  the  father's,  until  the  whole  was  a 
mass  of  reddish  brown  and  gold,  while  her  soft 
pink  cheeks  and  crimson  lips  brought  out  the 
fairness  of  her  fresh  white  skin. 

As  she  grew,  her  beauty  developed,  and  at 
fifteen,  like  a  bud  half  opened,  she  gave  rich 
promise.  She  was  her  father's  greatest  pride 
and  joy ;  between  them  existed  a  rare  degree  of 
companionship.  While  they  enjoyed  many 
things  in  common,  the  individuality  of  each  was 
so  strong  that  often  between  them  arose  strug- 
gles of  will  in  which  neither  was  willing  to  give 
way. 

Dr.  Louis  Bryan,  her  father's  old-time  friend, 
was  generally  Eleanor's  ally  in  these  wars  of 
words,  but  sometimes  he  would  oppose  her  for 
the  joy  of  seeing  her  fight  her  battles  unaided. 
"Our  little  rebel,"  they  called  her,  delighting 
in  the  term.  First  for  her  father's,  then  for 
her  own  sake,  Dr.  Bryan  loved  Eleanor,  and 
claimed  her  as  half  his  own,  in  the  place  of  the 
longed  for  child  denied  him  in  his  own  brief 
married  life.  Like  his  friend,  Dr.  Bryan  was  of 
Southern  birth.  This  closely  cemented  the 
friendship  between  them,  surrounded  as  they 
were  by  the  distinctly  Northern  type. 

To  the  joy  of  them  both,  Eleanor  was  more 


THE  JUDGMENT  9 

like  a  Southern  girl  than  might  have  been  ex- 
pected from  her  Northern  training  and  the 
prejudices  of  her  narrow-minded  mother.  The 
impulsive  generosity  and  warm-hearted  loving- 
ness  of  the  South  was  tempered  in  her  by  the 
coolly  independent  spirit  of  the  North,  a  baf- 
fling combination  where  the  two  elements  often 
warred. 

When  she  was  fifteen,  her  father  died.  With 
all  the  intensity  of  her  ardent  nature  she 
grieved  for  him,  and  from  that  time  the  bonds 
between  herself  and  the  old  Doctor  grew  into 
the  close  knit  cords  of  sympathizing  love.  They 
became  greater  comrades  than  ever,  and  often 
on  her  daily  way  to  the  fashionable  school 
where  she  was  being  "finished,"  Eleanor  would 
stop  for  a  few  minutes'  chat  with  him,  some- 
times leaving  behind  her  a  flower,  sometimes 
only  the  recollection  of  her  bright  face  and 
fondly  teasing  words. 

Mrs.  Howard  stubbornly  refused  to  follow  Dr. 
Bryan's  advice,  urging  the  continuance  of  her 
husband's  investments,  and  placed  her  fortune 
in  the  hands  of  Johnson  Evans,  an  old  time  ad- 
mirer of  her  own.  He  absconded,  leaving  them 
dependent  upon  Eleanor's  small  inheritance 
from  her  maternal  grandmother. 

This  loss  fell  with  stunning  force  upon  Mrs. 
Howard,  and  left  her  prostrated.  Instead  of 


10  THE  JUDGMENT 

recognizing  that  ruin  had  come  through  her  own 
stubborn  will,  she  reiterated  her  lamentations 
of  the  unkindness  of  fate,  and  declared  that 
rather  than  endure  privations  she  preferred  to 
die,  until  her  health  began  a  rapid  decline,  and 
she  became  a  troublesome,  fault-finding  invalid. 

Eleanor,  was  now  nearly  nineteen,  and  her 
beautiful  face  bore  the  shadow  of  the  heavy 
burden  laid  upon  her  shoulders.  She  had  be- 
gun to  realize  that  there  was  not  enough  in  the 
frivolous  education  given  by  her  thoughtless 
mother  to  fit  her  for  any  responsible  work,  and 
moreover,  to  this  plan  her  mother  offered  the 
most  stubborn  opposition,  saying  that  the  day 
on  which  Eleanor  chose  to  disgrace  herself  by 
work,  she  would  surely  die. 

William  Manning  was  forty-five.  Sated  with 
pleasure;  worn  out  by  excess;  thrust  as  a  boy 
into  premature  manhood  by  enormous  wealth, 
and  with  utter  absence  of  control,  he  had  be- 
come, when  man  should  be  strongest,  merely  a 
suggestion  of  what  he  might  have  been.  Self- 
ishness was  so  engrafted  to  his  soul  that  it  left 
no  room  for  thought  or  care  for  others.  Small 
and  slender;  his  little  head  was  covered  with 
straight  black  hair,  and  his  close  set  black  eyes 
shone  brightly  in  his  pointed,  sallow  face. 

Since  the  days  of  her  early  marriage,  Mrs. 
Howard  had  known  Manning,  and  after  her 


THE  JUDGMENT  11 

husband's  death  he  was  a  frequent  visitor  at 
her  house.  She  had  often  thought  of  a  second 
marriage  during  her  young  widowhood,  but 
after  losing  her  money,  the  offers  of  marriage 
were  not  many. 

Mrs.  Howard's  nature  was  not  one  to  enlarge 
upon  the  beauty  of  another,  and  in  her  com- 
parisons of  their  attractiveness,  her  daughter's 
beauty  always  suffered.  "So  overgrown,"  she 
deplored,  "and  her  hair  and  her  eyes,  well, 
thank  heaven  my  hair  is  golden  and  my  eyes 
are  blue."  So  when  Manning's  visits  grew 
more  frequent,  she  had  no  thought  of  Eleanor 
as  their  cause,  and  her  surprise  when  he  told 
her  was  genuine.  Always  resourceful  with  her 
own  interest  at  stake,  she  quickly  recovered  her- 
self and  accepted  the  situation  with  mental 
thanksgiving,  that  by  this  new  arrangement 
she  could  enjoy  its  many  benefits  without  the 
responsibilities  of  marriage.  She  was  fully 
aware  that  Manning  had  sunk  as  low  as  men  of 
high  position  sometimes  sink,  and  that  his  tat- 
tered reputation  hung  to  the  skeleton  of  his  lost 
respectability,  but  the  glow  of  the  promised 
golden  harvest  concealed  his  moral  turpitude, 
and  her  eyes  brightened  while  her  cordial  out- 
stretched hands  assured  him  of  her  co-opera- 
tion. 

For  several  months   Manning's   admiration 


12  THE  JUDGMENT 

for  Eleanor  had  been  quickening  until,  no 
longer  satisfied  with  fleeting  glimpses,  he  had 
decided  to  visit  her  at  home.  The  girl's  indif- 
ference baffled  him,  and  held  him  off,  a  little 
awed  by  the  unconsciousness  of  unspoiled  girl- 
hood. He  was  surprised  to  find  himself  liking 
the  new  experience,  of  a  woman  looking  at  him 
with  calm,  unblinded  eyes,  his  money  a  disre- 
garded thing. 

In  his  proposal,  Mrs.  Howard  at  once  found 
the  happiest  solution  of  her  problems.  With 
Eleanor  married  to  Manning,  there  need  no 
longer  remain  the  question  of  how  to  stretch 
their  income  to  afford  the  luxuries  she  craved. 
This  would  remove  any  necessity  for  Eleanor's 
working,  and  all  fears  of  privations  for  herself. 
"She  is  so  like  her  father  that  she  cannot  re- 
fuse me  anything,"  she  mused,  congratulating 
herself.  As  Eleanor  entered  the  room,  she  lost 
no  time.  "Guess  who  has  been  here  again, 
Dearie?" 

"One  of  your  friends?" 

"One  of  our  friends;  one  who  is  anxious  to 
become  our  closest  friend.  Can't  you  make  one 
little  guess?" 

"I  have  only  one  good  friend;  and  it  can't 
be  Dr.  Bryan,  for  I  have  just  left  him." 

"No,  it  is  some  one  who  will  soon  be  much 
nearer  than  Dr.  Bryan,"  and  Mrs.  Howard's 


THE  JUDGMENT  13 

voice  was  rather  sharp.  She  had  never  shared 
her  husband's  love  for  their  outspoken  old 
friend. 

"Then  I  could  never  guess ;  no  one  could  ever 
be  so  near  to  me  as  Dr.  Bryan." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you;  it  was  Mr.  Manning." 

'  *  Yes  ?  He  must  find  it  pleasant  here  to  make 
a  second  visit  this  week." 

"He  does,  and  he  proposes  to  come  oftener." 

"What  a  distinction,"  laughed  Eleanor. 

Mrs.  Howard  was  finding  it  hard  to  convey 
her  meaning.  "Can't  you  imagine  his  motive, 
Eleanor,  dear?"  she  asked,  with  an  appealing 
tone  in  her  voice. 

At  the  familiar  note,  Eleanor  turned,  realiz- 
ing that  something  lay  beneath  her  mother's 
words,  and  answered:  "Why,  no,  did  he  have  a 
motive  ? ' ' 

"Yes-you." 

"I!    How  could  I  be  a  motive  for  his  visit t" 

When  Mrs.  Howard  was  excited  she  showed 
it. 

"Oh,  Eleanor!  do  not  refuse  him,"  she  cried, 
the  usual  tears  starting  from  her  eyes  as  she 
ran  to  Eleanor  to  throw  her  arms  about  her,  but 
Eleanor,  being  tall,  it  was  not  convenient  to 
embrace  her  in  an  unresponsive  mood.  An- 
gered at  this,  Mrs.  Howard  began  to  weep. 
"You  are  just  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  refus- 


14  THE  JUDGMENT 

ing  me  my  heart's  one  desire.  You  never  think 
how  I  have  suffered  for  you,  or  how  my  health 
is  declining  under  all  these  awful  privations, 
since  I  lost  my  money,"  she  complained,  as  she 
threw  herself  upon  the  couch,  sobbing  loudly. 

To  Eleanor  the  cause  of  the  outbreak  was  not 
plain.  She  could  not  see  why  she  should  be 
blamed,  but  she  was  so  familiar  with  her  moth- 
er's methods  that  she  stood  quietly  waiting  for 
the  hysterics  to  subside  and  the  secret  to  be 
made  plain. 

"Really,  Mother,"  she  said  coldly,  "I  think 
this  very  unnecessary.  If  I  have  done  anything 
to  offend  you,  I  am  entirely  unconscious  of  it; 
and  as  for  Mr.  Manning,  since  I  have  not  seen 
him,  I  could  hardly  have  offended  him." 

Mrs.  Howard  lifted  pleading  hands:  "Just 
listen!  Just  listen!  You  are  perfectly  heart- 
less !  No  feeling  at  all ! "  Her  anger  increased 
with  her  tears.  "To  think  how  I  have  suffered 
for  you,  how  I  have  watched  over  you,  looked 
after  your  welfare  and  your  chances  in  life. 
Oh!  Eleanor,  some  day  I  hope  you  will  suffer 
as  I  am  suffering  now;  that  some  day  your 
heart  may  receive  stabs  from  a  heartless,  thank- 
less child." 

While  Eleanor  was  outwardly  calm  she  was 
inwardly  tumultuous.  "What  have  I  done 
now ?  Stop  crying  and  tell  me  what  you  mean. ' ' 


THE  JUDGMENT  15 

"Oh,  you  need  not  pretend  that  you  do  not 
see  how  easy  it  will  make  matters  for  us  if  you 
will  only  marry  Mr.  Manning." 

Eleanor's  eyes  grew  wild.  "Marry  Mr. 
Manning!  I?  Mother,  have  you  lost  your 
mind?  What  on  earth  put  such  an  idea  into 
your  head  ? ' ' 

"He  did.  He  put  it  there  himself.  He  is 
wildly  in  love  with  you,  and  not  an  hour  ago  he 
asked  my  consent,"  her  mother  answered,  at 
once  revived,  misled  by  Eleanor's  calm,  but  al- 
most before  her  mother's  words  were  spoken, 
Eleanor's  wrath  culminated. 

"The  impertinent  beast!"  she  cried,  her  eyes 
ablaze,  "I  would  not  marry  him  if  there  were 
not  another  man.  alive,  and  you  can  tell  him  so." 

At  this  her  mother  screamed  again : 

"Oh,  think!  Think,  Eleanor,  of  how  rich  he 
is,  and  how  poor  we  are.  You  know  that  I  can 
no  longer  keep  my  maid,  and  it  tires  me  so  to 
comb  my  hair. ' ' 

"I  can  comb  it  for  you."  Eleanor  answered 
grimly. 

"No!  you  pull  it.  Such  cruelty  will  kill  me; 
how  can  you  hesitate  when  he  can  give  us  every- 
thing?" 

Eleanor  interrupted— "Mother!  is  there 
nothing  better  than  money?  Can  money  change 
his  evil  character?  I  do  not  want  to  marry  any 


16  THE  JUDGMENT 

one,  much  less  such  a  man  as  that.  I  will  work 
for  you;  I  will  protect  you;  I  can  find  a  place 
as  governess;  surely  I  am  competent  for  that, 
and  I  will  work  hard  for  you,  but — "  She 
got  no  further,  for  her  mother  had  fainted. 
Calling  for  help,  but  afraid  to  leave,  Eleanor 
chafed  the  white  hands  until  slow  life  re- 
turned. 

Mrs.  Howard  was'  not  strong.  Scenes  like 
this  reduced  her  strength,  leaving  her  a  pitiful 
spectacle  of  weakness.  But  under  the  faded 
blonde  beauty,  there  lay  an  indomitable  will,  and 
although  she  was  confined  to  her  bed  for  days, 
she  never  ceased  her  pleading. 

With  determined  effort,  day  by  day,  she  per- 
sisted. Argument  only  angered  her,  and  when 
Eleanor  finally  refused  to  discuss  the  subject, 
it  brought  a  fresh  outbreak  of  rage  and  tears, 
followed  by  increasing  weakness. 

Dr.  Bryan  came  and  tried  to  quiet  her  ex- 
citement. 

"No,  Dr.  Bryan,  you  do  not  know  Eleanor. 
Her  stubbornness  is  sinful.  She  is  refusing 
what  any  other  girl  in  New  York  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  get,  and  she  will  never  again 
have  such  a  chance.  He  has  been  here  five 
times  this  week,  and  each  time  she  refused  to  see 
him.  It  is  nothing  but  stubbornness,  and  I  be- 
lieve she  does  it  to  kill  me,  which  it  is  doing," 


THE  JUDGMENT  17 

and  she  wound  up  her  argument  with  another 
outburst  of  weeping. 

"See  here,  Mrs.  Howard,  you  must  stop  this 
at  once;  you  cannot  drive  Eleanor  into  such  a 
shameful  thing  as  you  propose.  Do  you  want 
the  servants  to  hear  you,  and  to  spread  the  re- 
port of  it  broadcast?  I  am  ashamed  of  you, 
and  if  you  will  not  control  yourself  I  must  ad- 
minister something  that  will  quiet  you." 

Angered  by  his  tone,  as  much  as  by  what  he 
said,  a  worse  attack  than  usual  came  on.  When 
she  had  grown  quiet,  Eleanor  and  Dr.  Bryan, 
thankful  for  a  few  minutes'  talk,  sought  the  li- 
brary. With  an  arm  around  her,  he  stroked 
her  bowed  head,  while  behind  his  spectacles 
tears  shone.  "Bear  up,  little  girl,  bear  up," 
was  all  he  could  say  in  his  effort  to  console  her. 

Eleanor  was  far  too  tired  to  cry.  For  six 
days  and  nights  she  had  listened  to  the  same  in- 
cessant complaints  and  charges  of  unkindness, 
and  had  seen  each  attack  of  her  mother's  hys- 
teria followed  by  prostration  more  pronounced 
and  alarming. 

When  at  last  she  lifted  her  head,  the  somber 
eyes  with  their  great  dark  circles  brought  an 
added  pain  to  the  tender  heart  of  the  old  man. 

"Help  me,  Doctor— Tell  me,  what  can  I  do? 
Must  I  give  in?"  she  asked,  her  voice  hoarse 
and  strained. 


18  THE  JUDGMENT 

"Of  course  not,  my  child.  It  is  horrible  to 
make  such  a  demand  of  you,  and  you  shall  not 
sacrifice  yourself  in  any  such  infernal  way. 
You  know  I  love  you ;  that  you  are  as  dear  to  me 
as  if  you  were  my  own,  and  shall  I  sit  by  and  see 
you  sacrificed  to  a  man  of  Manning's  stamp  to 
gratify  your  mother's  heartless  selfishness?" 

"It  has  not  come  to  that  yet.  I  have  refused 
her,  but  if  she  dies,  I  shall  feel  that  I  have  killed 
her."  Her  voice  rose  excitedly.  "How  could 
I  face  father?  He  told  me  to  watch  over  her. 
He  said  to  me  with  almost  his  last  whisper: 
1  Stick  to  Bryan,  Eleanor,  and  take  care  of 
Mamma.'  " 

"Tut!  tut!  child;  that  is  nonsense.  If  your 
mother  dies  to-night,  it  is  not  your  fault,  it  is 
her  own  ungovernable  nature  that  is  killing 
her." 

The  girl  caught  at  the  words  "is  killing  her." 
"Then  she  will  die,  you  mean?"  her  eyes  were 
wide  and  frightened.  "Tell  me,"  she  de- 
manded. He  tried  to  calm  her.  "Eleanor, 
don't  look  like  that.  Be  brave." 

She  paid  no  heed,  but  cried  in  terror:  "Tell 
me,  is  she  dying?  Tell  me,  you  must!" 

"Not  yet,  but  she  very  soon  may  be  if  she 
does  not  improve,"  he  answered,  not  daring  to 
refuse.  "She  is  greatly  weakened,  and  she  was 
never  strong."  He  did  not  add  that  in  his 


THE  JUDGMENT  19 

opinion  it  would  be  a  good  thing  if  she  were 
dead. 

''She  will  die,  and  I  shall  have  killed  her! 
Poor,  weak  little  Mamma.  This  is  how  I  have 
kept  my  promise  to  Dad."  Her  overwrought 
conscience  scourged  her  to  agony  through  the 
long  hours  of  the  night,  as  she  sat  watching  her 
mother's  disturbed  sleep,  and  there  Eleanor 
made  her  decision. 

In  the  pale  uncertain  light  of  early  morning, 
Eleanor  stood  at  her  mother's  window,  looking 
towards  the  rose-tinted  promises  of  the  sun. 
When  her  mother  began  to  move,  she  whispered 
brokenly:  "Oh,  help  me,  Dad!" 

As  the  querulous  voice  called,  "  Eleanor  1" 
she  turned  toward  the  bed,  and  with  a  brave  ef- 
fort to  control  her  voice,  answered:  "Yes, 
mother,  I  am  here.  Is  there  anything  you 
want?" 

The  same  plaint  again :  "I  am  so  unhappy !  so 
miserable!" 

Then  the  girl  spoke,  and  if  her  voice  was  cold, 
her  mother  did  not  know  or  care,  for  the  words 
she  heard  brought  happiness  enough.  "Mother, 
we  need  have  no  more  of  this.  I  will  marry 
Mr.  Manning,  since  nothing  else  will  cure  you." 

In  an  instant  the  invalid's  face  brightened; 
she  tried  to  raise  herself,  outstretched  her  arms 
and  cried  out  joyfully:  "Darling,  come  to  me! 


20  THE  JUDGMENT 

How  happy  you  make  your  poor  sick  mother!" 

Eleanor's  tone  was  lifeless  when  she  spoke. 
"No,  go  to  sleep  again;  excitement  is  not  good 
for  you.  If  the  man  comes  to-day  I  will  tell 
him.  I  am  going  to  my  room,  but  I'll  send  Jane 
to  you." 

Not  for  years  had  Manning  been  so  eager  as 
after  reading  the  note  Mrs.  Howard  sent  him 
when  Eleanor  left  the  room,  but  despite  the 
good  news,  his  air  was  less  jaunty  and  his  sal- 
low face  showed  a  few  added  lines,  brought 
there  by  the  past  six  days  of  waiting.  His 
small,  black  eyes  burned  with  a  feverish  glow  as 
he  waited  for  Eleanor,  and  as  she  entered  the 
room,  his  dry  lips  tightened  and  the  nervous 
brightness  of  his  eyes  was  startling.  He  moved 
toward  her  eagerly,  but  she  checked  his  advance 
by  a  curt  nod  of  salutation,  and  a  cold:  "Will 
you  be  seated?" 

His  hot  hand  dropped,  and  he  waited  for  her 
to  speak.  His  eyes  were  never  still,  but 
searched  and  searched  and  sparkled  in  a  way 
which  no  one  likes  to  see. 

With  her  natural  straightforwardness,  she 
came  directly  to  the  point.  "My  mother  says 
you  want  to  marry  me.  What  made  you  think 
of  such  a  thing?" 

The  tension  loosened,  his  relief  showed  plainly 
in  his  face,  as  he  answered,  trying  hard  to  keep 


THE  JUDGMENT  21 

his  voice  controlled:  "The  sight  of  you  did  that. 
I  want  you  because  you  are  the  most  beautiful 
woman  in  New  York." 

The  girl's  face  was  disdainful,  and  her  voice 
rang  hard.  "I  do  not  care  for  flattery, "  she 
said,  "and  if  I  marry  you,  I  assure  you  it  is 
only  to  save  my  mother's  life.  The  Doctor 
tells  me  she  will  die  unless  the  excitement  is  re- 
moved. Nothing  else  on  earth  could  make  me 
consent  to  it.  I  do  not  wish  to  marry  anyone, 
certainly  not  you."  Her  eyes  and  accent 
showed  indescribable  contempt. 

He  made  an  effort  at  lightness.  "It  grieves 
me  that  you  do  not  love  me,  since  my  love  for 
you  is  so  great,  but  even  so,  I  still  desire  you  for 
my  own.  You  may  yet  learn  to  love  me." 

"It  is  hardly  likely,"  she  replied.  To  any 
other  man  her  tone  and  look  would  have  been 
insult,  but  Manning  only  laughed.  "Then  let 
me  say  I  have  enough  for  both,  and  at  any  rate 
you  will  make  the  loveliest  wife  a  man  ever  had. ' ' 

He  tried  to  place  his  hand  on  hers,  but  at  the 
contact  she  snatched  her  own  away  as  if  his 
touch  had  burned  her.  She  turned  to  him  in 
pale-faced  fury,  her  eyes  ablaze,  exclaiming: 
"How  dare  you!  Move  back!" 

Into  Manning's  black  eyes  crept  a  look  which 
Eleanor  later  learned  to  know.  He  laughed 
shortly  as  he  moved  backward. 


22  THE  JUDGMENT 

' '  Just  as  you  like.  Let  me  hope  that  you  may 
acquire  more  sociability.  Wives  do  some- 
times." Then  after  a  moment,  he  resumed: 
"May  I  venture  to  beg  that  you  will  not  post- 
pone my  happiness?" 

A  hunted  look  crept  to  her  face,  as,  breathing 
quickly  she  replied:  "Surely  there  is  no  hurry. 
We  need  not  now  discuss  the  time." 

Manning's  cruel  smile  gathered.  "Would 
you  keep  me  longer  in  suspense?  I  have  suf- 
fered for  six  days,  and  now  that  happiness 
awaits  me,  I  am  eager  for  it.  I  cannot  wait — so 
do  not  ask  it,  but  marry  me  at  once." 

"At  once!"  she  cried,  drawing  still  further 
away  from  him.  Her  hand  sought  her  throat 
as  if  to  loosen  a  choking  gasp,  and  her  stricken 
eyes  would  have  moved  to  pity  any  soul  less 
mean;  Manning's  eyes  leaped  with  greedy  satis- 
faction when  he  caught  the  look,  which  was  al- 
most fear,  and  he  mercilessly  pressed  his  ad- 
vantage. 

"But  I  am  not  ready;  my  mother  is  still 
dangerously  ill,  and  until  last  night,  I  had  not 
even  considered  the  possibility  of  such  a 
thing,"  she  urged,  uncertainty  and  helpless- 
ness mingling  with  anger  in  her  heart  and 
voice. 

Finally  he  pretended  leniency.  "Then  I  will 
call  this  evening,  when  I  hope  you  will  choose 


THE  JUDGMENT  23 

the  date  for  our  marriage,  and  make  me,  soon, 
the  happiest  of  men." 

When  he  had  gone,  Eleanor  stood  immovable, 
her  hands  clenched  together,  her  wide  eyes  star- 
ing ahead.  Despair  dried  her  tears,  and  drove 
them  back  to  her  tortured  heart.  "Nothing  to 
hope  for,  nothing,  nothing,"  she  whispered,  as 
Dr.  Bryan  entered.  "What  is  this  your  mother 
tells  me,  Eleanor  1"  he  asked,  half  fiercely;  but 
when  he  saw  Eleanor's  face,  he  rushed  to  her, 
and  tried  to  draw  her  to  his  arms. 

"Don't,"  she  cried  wildly,  "I  cannot  bear  it. 
Don't  be  good  to  me  now.  Be  like  the  rest  of 
the  world;  be  a  devil!" 

"Eleanor,"  the  old  man  begged,  "listen  to 
me,  let  your  old  friend  talk.  You  are  not  going 
to  do  this  awful  thing.  That  vile  fellow  shall 
never  touch  your  footprints,  much  less  your 
heart,  to  bruise  and  break  it." 

1 '  Hush ! ' '  she  interrupted, ' '  I  must  do  it.  Let 
my  old  self  die,  never  try  to  revive  it,  only 
stand  by  me  when  you  can." 

"Damnable  selfishness!"  the  old  man 
groaned,  as  the  door  closed.  "That  little  cur 
her  husband!  My  God!  I'd  rather  she  had 
died !  Howard !  Our  little  girl !"  He  bent  be- 
fore the  picture  of  his  friend,  and  hot  tears 
streamed  down  his  face. 

Mrs.  Howard's  delight  was  unbounded.  "We 


24  THE  JUDGMENT 

will  have  everything  now,"  she  told  herself, 
"we  can  live  in  luxury;  my  privations  will  soon 
be  ended.*' 

Besting  happily  upon  her  pillows,  the  pale 
color  returning  to  her  white  face,  an  after- 
thought came.  "It  is  the  best  for  Eleanor;  she 
couldn't  work,  and  no  doubt  she  will  soon  get 
used  to  him.  I'm  very  sure  I'd  like  a  man  who 
could  give  me  so  much."  Her  thoughts  grew 
rapturous,  anticipating  the  envy  of  her  friends. 
Her  smiling  face  evidenced  the  joy  that  filled 
her,  and  left  no  trace  of  pity  for  the  girl,  fight- 
ing the  unequal  struggle  between  her  distorted 
idea  of  duty  and  her  outraged  sense  of  maidenly 
virtue.  And  Eleanor  remained  silent;  her  face 
grew  white  and  drawn,  her  lips  more  tightly 
closed,  her  hands  were  cold  and  her  heart 
seemed  frozen,  but  she  had  decided  upon  her 
course,  and  her  resolute,  bearing  proved  to  those 
who  knew  her  best,  that  she  would  not  falter. 


CHAPTER  n 

"FOR  God's  sake,  Mrs.  Howard,  stop  a  mo- 
ment and  think  of  the  horror  of  this  thing! 
You  are  condemning  Eleanor  to  a  life  of  misery. 
I  tell  you  Manning  is  ruined;  his  evil  habits 
have  poisoned  him  until  his  manhood  is  gone. 
He  has  been  under  my  care  for  years,  and  I 
know  he  is  ruined.  In  her  dead  father's  name, 
I  beg,  I  implore  you,  do  not  force  this  mar- 
riage. ' ' 

"Really,  Dr.  Bryan,  I  think  you  excite  your- 
self more  than  is  necessary  about  this  affair  of 
Eleanor's  and  mine.  I  am  quite  sure  that  you 
overstate  the  case.  It  is  most  unfortunate  that 
you  do  not  approve  Eleanor's  choice,  but  as  I, 
her  mother,  do  most  heartily  approve  it,  I 
fear  that  you  will  have  to  content  yourself  as 
best  you  can,"  and  as  she  finished,  Mrs.  Howard 
sank  against  her  cushions,  face  and  manner 
showing  displeasure  at  his  words. 

This  was  more  than  the  old  man  could  bear, 
and  his  rage  burst  forth:  "Then,  at  least  I'll 
have  the  pleasure  of  telling  you  once  for  all 
what  I  think  of  you,  Madam,  You  ruined  How- 

95 


26  THE  JUDGMENT 

ard's  life  with  your  petty  selfishness,  and 
eternal  complaints,  and  now  you  would  drive 
Eleanor  into  a  life  that  is  worse  than  death,  and 
you  are  doing  it  to  pamper  your  own  selfish 
little  soul.  It  is  as  bad  as  a  life  of  open  shame, 
to  drive  her  into  marriage  with  such  a  dog  as 
Manning." 

"Silence!"  she  commanded,  rising  in  fury. 

But  he  went  on:  "Yes,  it  is  you  who  are 
doing  this;  doing  it  that  by  the  sale  of  your 
child,  you  may  reap  your  own  harvest.  It's  a 
damned  shame  that  such  a  little  soul  as  yours 
should  be  able  to  bring  misery  to  a  noble  one 
like  hers." 

•  »  •  •  • 

The  wedding  took  place  on  January  tenth. 
While  Eleanor  received  the  wishes  for  her  hap- 
piness from  friends,  now  eager  to  express  them, 
with  an  unbroken  calm,  her  mother  was  reani- 
mate with  joy,  and  responded  to  every  con- 
gratulatory wish  as  if  she  were  the  bride,  un- 
able to  hide  her  rapture.  When  they  had 
reached  the  sumptuous  car,  Eleanor  entered 
like  an  automaton,  with  scarcely  a  glance  to 
the  volatile  French  maid  bowing  a  welcome. 
Soon  the  train  plowed  on  through  banks  of 
snow  and  ice,  a  mighty  monster  bidding  de- 
fiance to  the  cruel  forces  of  the  biting  cold. 

The  discreet  servants  withdrawn,  Eleanor 
and  Manning  were  left  alone.  He  was  full  of 


THE  JUDGMENT  27 

eagerness  to  touch  the  freshness  of  the  young 
girl's  heart,  captured,  but  not  yet  won.  As  he 
watched  the  slender  form  and  impassive  face 
before  him,  he  murmured  beneath  his  breath: 
"My  wife — not  yet." 

He  took  in  anew  the  beauty  of  her  youth- 
fulness,  while  in  his  selfish  heart  a  kind  resolve 
struggled  for  life.  "As  mine,  she  shall  have 
everything  the  heart  of  woman  can  desire." 
She  met  each  attention  with  unmelting  coldness ; 
not  once  did  her  face  brighten ;  the  large,  brown 
eyes  held  no  sign  of  interest,  but  her  gaze  rested 
on  the  dreary  outside  landscape. 

The  hours  passed  as  if  unnoticed  by  her,  but 
the  time  seemed  interminable  to  him,  rebelling 
at  her  coldness,  and  he  again  broke  the  intoler- 
able silence,  "Say  something,  Eleanor." 

For  a  moment  she  did  not  answer,  and  then 
she  did  not  turn  her  head,  and  her  voice  was 
low  and  tense,  "There  is  nothing  to  say." 

"Oh,  yes  there  is,"  he  responded,  thankful 
that  the  spell  of  long  silence  was  finally  broken. 
"You  might  say  that  everything  outside  looks 
cold,  or  that  the  wind  is  blowing,  or  you  might 
tell  me  that  you  love  me,  as  a  dear  little  wife 
should  do." 

As  he  spoke,  he  came  nearer  to  her ;  his  black 
eyes  sparkled,  and  the  blood  mounted  to  his  sal- 
low cheeks.  Ominous  sign.  And  as  Eleanor 
saw  it,  her  outraged  heart  stirred  with  resent- 


28  THE  JUDGMENT 

ment,  while  a  waking  recognition  of  its  meaning 
choked  her  with  dread.  Fighting  hard  to  con- 
ceal her  fear,  she  answered :  ' l  That  would  not 
be  true." 

He  scanned  her  face  intently,  thinking  how 
he  should  proceed,  and  his  thin  lips  curled,  as 
he  promised  himself:  "I  will  conquer  her,  then 
we  shall  see." 

With  a  stern  restraint,  he  decided  to  make 
another  effort ;  this  time  along  impersonal  lines : 
"Beastly  winter,"  he  remarked,  "but  we  will 
meet  an  early  June  in  Florida.  Ever  in  Flor- 
ida before?" 

"No." 

"Lovely  climate  and  fine  hotels ;  bathing,  fish- 
ing, dancing;  everything.  Do  you  like  danc- 
ing?" 

"Not  now." 

"You  will  be  charmed  with  Florida.  I  hope 
you  brought  plenty  of  pretty  clothes.  I  want 
my  wife  to  be  always  well-dressed." 

He  waited  for  the  reply  which  did  not  come, 
and  then  persisted:  "Did  you  buy  many  pretty 
things,  Eleanor?  Your  mother  promised  me 
to  see  to  that." 

Had  he  known  her  better  he  might  have  seen 
a  danger  signal  flash  over  her  face,  but  to  him 
it  was  only  a  blush  which  pleased  him. 

"Did  you,  Eleanor?"  he  asked  again. 


THE  JUDGMENT  29 

With  a  look  of  supreme  scorn,  she  answered 
in  her  coldest  tone:  "I  do  not  know,  I  did  not 
examine  them." 

All  his  eff orts  to  talk  to  her  ending  in  failure, 
he  fell  to  watching  her  as  she  sat  apparently 
unmoved,  her  face  turned  toward  the  window, 
as  if  she  might  be  unconscious  of  his  presence. 
He  bit  his  lip  in  rage.  "When  my  time  comes, 
I'll  make  her  pay  for  this,"  he  snarled  beneath 
his  breath. 

The  dreary  day  tired  itself  out,  and  withdrew 
behind  the  darkening  shadows  of  evening ;  night 
came  down,  and  began  to  cover  the  wintry  land- 
scape with  her  sable  cloak. 

Eleanor  still  sat  in  the  drawing-room  gazing 
out  into  the  night,  when  Cleo,  the  French  maid, 
came  in,  bearing  a  tray  with  a  dainty  service. 

"I  think  Madame  might  like  a  leetle  tea,  for 
you  have  not  touch  one  bite  since  we  have  made 
the  start,"  she  explained,  settling  the  service 
and  drawing  the  blinds.  "M'sieur  will  join 
you,  if  him  you  want,"  she  added,  according  to 
Manning's  instructions,  but  as  Eleanor  gave  no 
answer,  he  entered  uninvited. 

Eleanor  could  not  drink  her  tea,  and  the  hand 
that  poured  it  trembled;  but  Manning's  appetite 
was  unimpaired.  Her  preoccupation  did  not 
prevent  his  enjoyment  of  the  meal.  He  seldom 
attempted  conversation  at  the  table,  for  eating 


30  THE  JUDGMENT 

was  there  witH  him  the  principal  business.  No 
one  could  fail  to  see  the  relish  with  which  he 
disposed  of  everything  before  him,  and  Eleanor 
thought  with  disgust:  "How  can  so  small  a  man 
devour  so  large  a  quantity  of  food!"  He 
glanced  at  her,  and  perhaps  her  face  held  some 
hint  of  her  thoughts,  for  with  a  sinister  smile 
he  remarked:  "My  love  for  you  is  very  great, 
but  as  you  do  not  make  sufficient  return  to  sus- 
tain me,  I  must  resort  to  more  material  aid." 
Eleanor  turned  away  without  reply,  and  he 
promised  himself  requital:  "when  my  time 
comes." 

An  hour  later  Cleo  entered,  and  standing  by 
Eleanor 's  side  with  her  demure  air,  said  in  her 
soft  and  broken  drawl:  "Ze  state  room  ees 
raidy,  Madame,  vill  you  not  come?" 

"No — you  may  go,  I  shall  not  need  you." 

"But  Madame  ees  in  need  of  ze  rest,"  she 
urged. 

"I  prefer  to  remain  here." 

"I  can  do  nothing,  M'sieur,"  Cleo  complained 
to  Manning,  waiting  for  the  outcome  of  the  in- 
terview. 

"I  will  see  her,"  and  in  a  brave  assumption 
of  authority,  he  opened  the  drawing-room  door. 
The  silent  figure  seemed  scarcely  to  have  moved 
since  first  they  started,  and  she  showed  no  sign 
of  having  noted  his  entrance. 


THE  JUDGMENT  31 

"My  dear,  this  will  not  do;  you  must  have 
rest;  you  must  go  to  sleep." 
"I  cannot  sleep." 
"You  cannot  unless  you  try.    Come,  be  rea- 


sonable ;  let  Cleo  make  you  comfortable  for  the 
night." 

Eleanor  lifted  her  eyes  to  him,  and  a  better 
man  would  have  detected  the  appeal  lying  in 
their  depths.  "Let  me  stay  here."  Manning's 
irritation  was  not  well  controlled.  "Confound 
such  obstinacy,"  he  muttered,  going  back  to  his 
stateroom  next  to  hers. 

During  the  passing  hours  the  roar  of  the  train 
was  the  only  sound  which  broke  into  the  still- 
ness of  the  night.  It  was  past  three  o'clock 
when  Cleo  came  for  the  third  time  to  beg  her 
mistress  to  take  some  rest,  but  as  she  reached 
the  door  she  halted,  for  Eleanor  was  standing 
in  the  center  of  the  little  room,  her  face  drawn 
with  agony.  All  day  roses  had  filled  the  warm 
air  of  the  apartment  with  a  sweetness  she  had 
loathed.  Oppressed  now  past  endurance,  she 
opened  the  window,  and  as  if  spurning  from  her 
some  hateful  thing,  she  filled  her  arms  with  the 
flowers  and  threw  them  out,  then  bent  her  head 
to  the  window  for  the  touch  of  the  cold  night 
air  to  revive  her.  When  Cleo  entered,  Elea- 
nor's worn-out  body  added  its  craving  for  rest 
to  the  pleading  of  the  insistent  maid,  and  she 


32  THE  JUDGMENT 

arose  to  follow  her.  Not  until  then  did  she  re- 
alize the  strain  under  which  she  had  passed 
the  day.  Her  feet  gave  way,  as  she  tried  to 
walk;  she  swayed  and  fell  against  the  wall. 
Seeing  Eleanor 's  pallid  face  and  swaying  form, 
Cleo  uttered  a  piercing  scream.  ''Madame  ees 
fainting  I"  she  cried,  in  frightened  tones,  when 
Manning  hurried  towards  them. 

"No,  I  am  not  fainting;  I  am  perfectly  well; 
I  only  stumbled  from  the  motion  of  the  train," 
Eleanor  insisted,  angry  both  with  herself  and 
the  maid  for  having  caused  the  excitement. 

"No  wonder  you  are  faint,  you  eat  nothing, 
and  sit  up  all  night,"  Manning  cried  in  a  tone 
of  impatience. 

Eleanor  made  no  reply,  but  entered  her  state- 
room and  surrendered  herself  to  the  practiced 
hands  of  the  maid. 

She  was  soon  again  alone  in  the  quiet  and 
darkness  of  the  winter  night;  alone,  but  with 
such  thoughts  for  companions  as  brought  the 
hot  rebellious  tears  to  the  aching  eyes.  Who 
heard  the  quivering  sobs  that  shook  the  slender 
form,  or  understood  the  baptism  of  agony 
through  which  she  groped  a  blinded  way,  where 
blighted  hopes  and  girlhood  dreams  lay  dead 
around  her,  as  she  passed  to  take  up  this  new 
life? 

It  was  long  in  passing,  this  storm  of  anguish ; 


THE  JUDGMENT  33 

and  only  when  the  gray  dawn  began  to  blush  at 
the  ardor  of  the  morning  kiss  of  the  rising  sun, 
rest  came  to  her  saddened  heart.  Sleep  was  so 
heavy  that  she  lay  unconscious  of  Cleo's  en- 
trance with  the  morning  cup  of  chocolate.  The 
maid,  alarmed  at  her  appearance,  hastily  sum- 
moned Manning.  A  slight  hesitation  showed 
in  his  assured  face  as  he  entered  the  room  and 
stood  gazing  at  the  girlish  form  sunk  in  sleep. 
His  heart  leaped  with  desire  as  he  leaned  above 
her.  The  crimson  lips  were  half  way  parted 
like  a  child's  in  sleep;  her  face  rested  on  one 
hand;  one  long,  soft  braid  of  hair  lay  across 
her  shoulder,  while  one  was  crushed  beneath 
her.  The  full  sleeves  of  the  soft,  white  gown 
fell  back  and  showed  her  rounded  arms.  One 
hand  lay  on  her  breast,  its  fingers  enmeshed  in 
the  soft  laces  of  her  low-necked  gown,  as  if  even 
in  sleep  she  would  guard  the  entrance  to  her 
heart.  The  rounded  breasts  rose  and  fell  be- 
neath the  filmy  lace,  through  which  the  soft, 
white  flesh  was  dimly  seen.  The  man  stood 
still  and  gazed,  his  eyes  ravished  by  the  won- 
drous beauty  of  the  woman.  "God,  she's 
mine!"  he  whispered,  and  then  as  if  she  heard, 
a  quivering  sigh  issued  from  her  lips,  and 
Eleanor  stirred. 

Manning  withdrew  in  haste,  giving  orders 
that   she   should  not  be   disturbed   until   she 


34  THE  JUDGMENT 

awakened  of  her  own  accord,  and  while  she  slept 
he  sat  near  her  door,  watching  and  waiting  for 
the  first  sign  of  her  awakening. 

The  morning  hours  passed  very  slowly  to  him 
as  he  waited  there,  his  soul  afire  with  fierce 
longings  for  the  delicate,  fresh  beauty  of  the 
woman  so  lately  but  a  child ;  and  with  an  impure 
love  he  craved  the  moment  when  he  would  sub- 
due the  proud  young  spirit,  and  subjugate  the 
sweet  young  heart. 

When  Eleanor  awoke,  in  her  youthful 
strength,  refreshed  by  sleep,  life  seemed  to  show 
a  countenance  less  forbidding.  Blessing  of 
youth;  to  sleep  and  wake  refreshed  and 
strengthened. 

Even  the  cold  winds  of  the  North  had  during 
the  night's  travel  become  tempered  by  the 
milder  climate  of  the  upper  South ;  and  looking 
from  her  window  she  saw  the  river  rippling  by, 
unchecked  by  icy  barriers  and  felt  hope  stir  and 
arise  within  her  heart.  "Let  me  learn  to  make 
the  best  of  it,"  she  whispered  to  the  girl  looking 
at  her  from  the  gilt  framed  mirror. 

Cleo's  dextrous  hands  found  it  easy  to  de- 
stroy the  ravages  left  on  her  mistress's  face  by 
the  stress  of  the  night  before,  and  when  Eleanor 
entered  the  drawing-room,  Manning  rose  with 
quick,  involuntary  homage  to  her  beauty.  The 
heavier  dress  of  yesterday  had  been  replaced 


THE  JUDGMENT  35 

by  a  gown  of  dull  blue  silk;  the  yoke,  which 
came  far  down  the  shoulders,  was  of  creamy 
satin  wrought  heavily  with  golden  threads ;  the 
girdle  round  the  slender  waist  held  the  same 
embroidery;  the  skirt  hung  straight  and  full, 
and  fell  in  graceful  folds  round  her  highly 
arched  feet.  The  dress  was  simple,  but  the 
queer  dull  color  brought  out  the  bronze  shades 
of  her  hair  and  enhanced  the  clear  white  skin 
and  tinted  cheeks.  Her  glorious  brown  eyes 
and  scarlet  lips  added  the  completing  touch  to 
a  picture  so  exquisite  as  to  have  stirred  to  ardor 
any  heart.  Yesterday's  look  of  cold  restraint 
had  become  tempered  by  the  softened  expres- 
sion of  hopefulness ;  that  same  which  stirs  and 
thrills  us  all  alike  till  hope  itself  is  dead. 

"I  over  slept, "  she  said,  looking  toward  him 
as  she  passed  into  the  sumptuous  little  apart- 
ment. 

"I  trust  it  rested  you,"  he  answered,  and  ex- 
tended a  chair  towards  her.  "You  are  just  in 
time  for  lunch." 

She  accepted  with  half  a  smile  the  common- 
place remark,  and  the  meal  proceeded  cheer- 
fully enough,  for  Manning  had  determined  to 
redeem  his  mistakes  of  yesterday  and  exerted 
himself  to  be  agreeable. 

As  they  traveled,  Manning  pointed  out  to  her 
the  points  of  interest  along  the  way.  There  a 


36  THE  JUDGMENT 

turbulent  stream,  whose  bank  marked  the  scene 
of  a  hard-fought  battle  of  the  Civil  War;  not 
far  away  stood  an  old  fort,  where  an  army  of 
gallant  Northern  soldiers  found  themselves  re- 
pulsed by  the  dauntless  bravery  of  their  South- 
ern brothers.  Since  early  youth  love  for  the 
sunny  land  of  her  father's  birth  and  boyhood 
had  filled  Eleanor's  heart,  and  these  scenes  of 
the  long-drawn,  hopeless  struggle  against  supe- 
rior might  filled  her  with  vivid  interest.  "If 
Dad  could  be  with  me,"  was  her  involuntary 
thought;  the  loving  memory  of  him  banished 
for  the  time  the  distastefulness  of  the  present, 
and  made  her  glow  with  interest. 

To  Manning's  eyes  the  girl  was  irresistibly 
lovely  in  her  fresh  enthusiasm,  and  he  found  a 
pleasure  new  and  strange  to  him  in  adding  to 
it,  in  pointing  out  to  her  the  historic  scenes 
which  stand  as  milestones  marking  our  coun- 
try's onward  march.  And  onward  through  the 
Southern  States  the  train  made  its  rapid  way, 
till  they  found  themselves  on  the  borders  of 
that  land  of  perpetual  sunshine— Florida. 

Eleanor  stood  with  Manning  upon  the  plat- 
form of  the  car,  while  the  train  sped  along 
through  the  tangled  riot  of  beauty  on  each  side 
of  the  track. 

When  the  train  reached  Palm  Beach,  night 
had  fallen,  and  they  could  hear  the  washing  of 


THE  JUDGMENT  37 

the  mighty  waves  rolling  over  the  sands  of  the 
level  beach  beneath  their  windows. 

Manning  had  engaged  the  most  sumptuous 
suite  of  rooms  in  the  great  hotel,  itself  a  work 
of  art;  man's  artistic  handiwork  framed  in  that 
of  nature. 

Surrounded  by  luxury,  lulled  to  sleep  by  the 
music  of  the  waves,  Eleanor  lay  wrapped  in 
child-like  slumber  till  morning  came,  and  with 
it,  Cleo.  '  *  Madame  vill  mees  ze  sight  of  ze  bath- 
ers eff  she  does  not  rise." 

Through  the  open  windows  the  soft  wind  came 
with  gentle  greeting  from  the  ocean's  breast, 
and  Eleanor  caught  her  breath  in  wonder  at 
the  beauty  of  the  view. 

The  bathers  raced  down  the  sands  to  spring 
like  the  sea  birds  into  the  rippling  waves ;  sport- 
ing in  the  water  as  if  it  were  their  native  ele- 
ment, while  on  the  sands  onlookers  loitered, 
bathed  in  the  morning  sunshine. 

"M'sieur  demands  to  know  if  Madame  would 
like  a  stroll  on  the  beach  before  breikfus,"  came 
Cleo's  voice  as  Eleanor  stood  at  the  window. 

"Yes,  it  is  too  lovely  to  stay  indoors,"  she 
answered,  impatient  for  the  warm  glory  of  the 
sun.  In  the  sitting-room  she  joined  him.  His 
face  was  eager,  too.  but  not  with  thoughts  of 
the  outside  scene. 

As  Eleanor  advanced,  dressed  in  a  modish 


38  THE  JUDGMENT 

white  linen  suit,  heavy  with  embroidery,  a  large 
white  hat  shading  her  face,  wherein  her  soft 
brown  eyes  glowed  with  expectancy  which  even 
dislike  for  him  could  not  entirely  hide,  Man- 
ning thought  as  he  greeted  her:  "Each  time  I 
see  you,  you  are  more  beautiful." 

The  blue  water  and  the  bluer  sky,  each  with 
its  touch  of  white  in  cloud  and  foam,  delighted 
her  throughout  the  brief  stroll.  Enjoyment  of 
the  simple  things  of  Nature  enhanced  her 
beauty  and  drew  in  her  direction  more  than  one 
pair  of  interested  eyes.  Eleanor  did  not  see 
this,  but  Manning  knew  and  realized  no  pleasure 
from  the  fact. 

"I  see  a  number  of  people  are  already  here," 
he  remarked,  strolling  back  toward  the  en- 
trance; "I  met  the  Gordon-Leighs  last  night. 
They  asked  for  you,  but  I  told  them  you  were 
too  tired  to  come  down  to  the  dance.  No  doubt 
we  will  meet  them  to-day.  I  want  you  to  be  the 
loveliest  woman  at  the  dance  to-night."  His 
eyes  followed  her  close,  and  she  found  it  hard 
to  evade  them.  In  his  look  and  manner  lay  sug- 
gestion of  a  hungry  animal.  He  had  no  ap- 
preciation to-day  for  either  clouds,  sky  or  sea; 
his  mind  was  fixed  on  Eleanor  and  incidentally 
upon  the  other  men  who  watched  her. 

At  breakfast  numerous  greetings  awaited 
them  from  acquaintances  arrived  before  them, 


THE  JUDGMENT  39 

and  like  all  youth,  Eleanor  responded  to  the 
genial  spirit  pervading  the  place,  and  as  a 
flower  opens  its  heart,  responsive  to  the  warm 
caresses  of  the  sun,  her  face  caught  and  re- 
flected the  light  of  the  lovely  morning,  and  for 
a  little  while  hid  from  her  the  fact  that  behind 
Manning's  light  and  pleasant  talk  lay  the  deeper 
note  of  passion  and  suspicious  jealousy  gleam- 
ing in  his  ferret-like  eyes  at  the  admiring 
glances  cast  her  way. 

In  her  room  she  found  flowers  such  as  it 
seemed  impossible  to  imagine  growing  any- 
where in  January ;  great,  glorious  roses,  in  their 
fragrance  so  unlike  their  frailer  sisters  grown 
within  the  Northern  hot  houses. 

She  caught  her  breath  in  sheer  delight,  her 
face  aglow  with  wonder.  "Ah!  the  beauty  of 
such  a  land,"  she  cried,  her  arms  filled  with 
roses,  her  eyes  filled  with  joy  in  the  beauty  thus 
outspread.  "How  could  one  get  enough  of 
Florida?" 

Manning's  restraint  began  to  gall  him.  This 
woman  was  his  wife;  must  he  stand  back  with 
ceremonious  politeness,  waiting  for  her  to  in- 
vite further  demonstrations  of  love?  "The 
roses  please  you?" 

"Yes,  everything  here  pleases  me,"  she  an- 
swered, with  the  unconsciousness  of  a  child. 

Something  choked  him;  he  swallowed  hard. 


40  THE  JUDGMENT 

"And  you  please  me,"  and  coming  close  he 
caught  her  hand,  lifted  and  pressed  upon  it  his 
hot  kisses.  Withdrawing  from  him  with  nerv- 
ous haste,  she  declared:  "You  crush  my  roses," 
and  gathered  them  again  into  her  arms,  retiring 
further  into  the  embrasure  of  the  window. 
Manning's  face  grew  dark  as  he  watched  her 
retreating  form,  and  the  look  in  his  eyes  was  not 
a  nice  one.  "My  time  is  coming  soon,"  he 
whispered  to  himself,  and  moistened  his  hot, 
dry  lips. 

Eleanor  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  remain- 
ing day  trying  to  avoid  any  further  conversa- 
tion with  him.  Meeting  people  from  their 
circle  of  acquaintances  in  New  York  made  it 
easier  for  her  to  pass-  the  time  away,  and  she 
thought  he  did  not  understand  her  ruse. 

The  gay  crowds  were  gathering  in  the  bril- 
liant ballroom.  Eleanor  stood  before  the  long 
mirror  in  the  dressing  room,  while  Cleo  put  the 
last  deft  touches  to  her  toilette.  Her  evening 
gown  exposed  the  soft  beauty  of  her  neck  and 
shoulders.  Her  lovely  arms  were  bare.  The 
creamy  whiteness  of  her  skin  was  not  more 
charming  than  the  rounded  contour  of  the  arms ; 
soft  and  white  and  dimpled,  they  needed  nothing 
to  enhance  their  beauty. 

As  Cleo  was  fastening  a  straying  curl  which, 
refusing  to  remain  in  the  unaccustomed  staid- 


THE  JUDGMENT  41 

ness,  fell  down  and  clung  like  baby  fingers  close 
round  the  small  pink  ear,  Eleanor  heard  a 
slight  noise  behind  her,  and  turning  faced  her 
husband. 

His  dapper  little  form  was  clad  in  immaculate 
evening  dress,  from  the  stiff  white  collar  and 
precise  tie  to  the  tips  of  his  glistening  shoes. 
His  dark  hair  was  plastered  close  to  his  small 
head.  His  white  shirt  threw  into  bold  relief 
the  sallow  tints  of  his  face,  in  which  now  burned 
ominous  dark  red  stains. 

Eleanor's  wide  eyes  demanded  of  him  expla- 
nation of  this  unannounced  appearance  in  her 
room. 

He  laughed  with  nervousness,  but  determined 
to  treat  his  presence  as  only  a  matter  of  course, 
he  came  forward,  saying:  "It  is  time  we  went 
down,  so  I  came  to  see  if  you  were  nearly 
ready. ' ' 

"I  would  have  sent  Cleo  to  you  soon,"  she 
answered. 

"But  my  coming  has  saved  you  that  trouble, 
my  wife,"  he  broke  in  smilingly. 

The  words  and  the  look  accompanying  them 
sent  a  thrill  of  something  hitherto  unknown  or 
only  guessed  at  throughout  her  being. 

Manning,  watching  her  narrowly,  saw  her 
tremble,  and  at  the  sight  he  smiled,  then  spoke 
again.  "You  must  have  thought  it  strange  that 


42  THE  JUDGMENT 

I  gave  you  only  your  diamond  pin  upon  our 
wedding  day.  I  have  something  here  to  ac- 
company it,  but  have  kept  it  till  now  to  sur- 
prise you.  Let  us  see  if  it  suits  the  pin/'  and 
he  held  out  a  square  silver  box  beautifully  en- 
graved, to  the  handle  of  which  hung  a  key. 

"The  pin?" 

Something  showed  in  Eleanor's  face  which 
made  him  ask,  "Where  is  your  pin?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  confused. 

"Don't  know?"  he  repeated  her  words  in  a 
tone  of  inquiry.  "Surely  you  have  some 
knowledge  of  the  whereabouts  of  your  wedding 
gifts." 

"I  forgot  it,"  she  explained,  as  yet  too  un- 
versed in  duplicity  to  recognize  the  usefulness 
of  a  discreet  prevarication. 

Cleo  came  forward  smiling.  "Madame  for- 
gets her  jewels,  but  I  naifer  do  forget,"  her  eyes 
upraised,  appealing  for  commendation  from  the 
excited  man. 

"Nice  girl,"  he  said  under  his  breath. 

"I  haif  ze  brooch,"  she  said,  her  smiling  face 
uplifted,  indicating  by  the  upward  shrug  of  her 
shoulders  that  between  herself  and  Manning  lay 
a  mutual  understanding  of  Eleanor's  peculiar 
defections. 

Manning  gave  her  a  glance  apparently  satis- 
factory, for  it  brought  a  pleased  smile  to  her 


THE  JUDGMENT  43 

flushed  face  as  she  hastily  produced  the  missing 
brooch. 

Though  Eleanor  witnessed  the  by-play  be- 
tween her  husband  and  her  maid,  she  did  not 
yet  know  either  of  them  so  well  as  to  catch  its 
full  significance. 

"I  am  sorry  I  forgot  the  brooch,"  she  apolo- 
gized. 

"I  hope  you  may  attach  more  importance  to 
these,"  he  dryly  answered,  and  placed  the  box 
upon  the  table,  inserted  the  key,  threw  back  the 
top  displaying  upon  the  white  velvet  trays  such 
exquisite  diamonds  as  few  women  have  seen; 
fewer  still  possessed. 

''Oh!  how  beautiful!"  from  the  enraptured 
maid,  " Madame  will  be  like  ze  angels  of  God." 

Manning  lifted  the  sparkling  jewels,  and  with 
a  punctilious:  " Allow  me,"  fastened  the  brace- 
lets round  Eleanor's  tapering  arms,  then  around 
her  soft  white  neck,  the  glittering  jeweled  chain. 
Could  the  touch  of  the  gold  have  made  her  start 
as  if  with  sudden  pain,  or  was  it  the  contact  of 
the  fingers  that  clasped  it  which  filled  her  soul 
with  terror? 


CHAPTER  III 

ELEANOR  had  been  away  four  weeks,  but  even  in 
that  short  time  the  improvement  in  her  mother's 
appearance  and  health  had  been  marvelously 
rapid.  Happiness  is  truly  a  great  restorer. 

"When  Manning  bade  her  farewell,  he  slipped 
a  generous  bank  note  into  her  hand.  * '  Stint  her 
in  nothing,"  he  had  said,  and  Mrs.  Howard  took 
him  at  his  word.  The  gowns  she  ordered  for 
the  homecoming  of  the  bride  were  fit  for  the 
wardrobe  of  a  queen.  ' '  She  must  have  them  to 
be  able  to  hold  his  love,"  she  argued. 

The  adroit  French  costumers  understood  their 
patron,  and  amid  the  delicate  blues,  pinks  and 
greens,  they  displayed  gorgeous  brocades  of 
more  subdued  colorings.  "  These  are  too  old 
for  her,"  she  answered,  while  her  hands  strayed 
with  caressing  touch  down  the  soft  length  of  a 
pale  mauve  brocade. 

"Ah!  but  it  ees  made  but  for  Madame 's  self. 
Peecture  yourself  in  this,  touched  up  with  silver. 
Ah !  but  you  will  be  like  a  girl  again.  You  must 
not  tink  alone  of  ze  chile,  forgetting  always  ze 
sweet  beauty  of  ze  mother.  Yais,  dese  soaf 
clinging  robes  for  her,  but  ze  loafly  brocades  for 
you,"  and  Madame  proved  herself  an  irresist- 

44 


THE  JUDGMENT  45 

ible  temptress.  Invitations  and  cards  poured 
in  and  the  air  was  replete  with  happy  congrat- 
ulations. 

At  Manning's  home  another  view  of  life  was 
being  taken.  His  sisters,  Maud  and  Eva,  aged 
thirty-six  and  thirty-two,  respectively,  had  un- 
til now  been  joint  mistresses  of  his  home,  and 
the  knowledge  of  the  coming  of  another  to  take 
their  place  was  very  galling. 

Mrs.  Judith  Norton,  their  aunt,  for  her  own 
reasons,  augmented  these  feelings  of  resent- 
ment, and  it  was  easily  seen  that  Eleanor  would 
get  no  help  or  sympathy  from  any  of  them. 

Mrs.  Norton's  rustling  gown  and  costly  furs 
could  not  mitigate  the  harshness  of  a  counte- 
nance like  hers.  Her  dark  sallow  skin  was  over- 
spread with  wrinkles ;  the  Manning  eyes  in  their 
black  beadiness  were  set  close  together  under 
her  narrow  forehead ;  her  prominent  nose  shad- 
owed a  mouth  with  cruel  lips.  She  was  tall, 
and  her  slight  figure  showed  acute  angles  de- 
spite the  care  of  a  painstaking  dressmaker. 

Maude  was  almost  as  tall  as  Mrs.  Norton, 
but  less  angular;  her  dark  eyes  were  like  her 
aunt's,  and  her  mouth  was  quite  as  cruel.  It 
shut  tight  and  close  as  if  imprisoning  forever 
the  chance  expression  of  a  kindly  thought. 

Eva  was  smaller  than  her  sister,  and  her 
small  light  blue  eyes  lent  little  charm.  Her 


46  THE  JUDGMENT 

pale  brown  hair  had  now  lost  its  youthful  yel- 
low tint  in  a  long  since  hopeless  drab.  The 
Manning  mouth  was  with  her,  modified  by  weak- 
ness. Her  nose  was  her  trouble ;  it  was  large, 
long,  hooked  and  red,  and  forced  her  to  spend 
the  greater  part  of  her  winters  indoors.  It 
had  always  been  her  despair,  and  despite  her 
careful  powderings  and  painstaking  care,  re- 
mained a  torment  to  its  possessor. 

"They  say  Mrs.  Howard  had  made  some  very 
poor  investments,  and  without  this  marriage 
to  William  they  would  now  have  almost  noth- 
ing," Eva  said. 

"Knowing  William  as  I  do,"  Maude  an- 
swered, "I  think  she  made  a  bad  investment 
when  she  chose  him  as  a  husband  for  her 
daughter." 

"I  hope  you  will  not  express  yourself  so 
freely  when  he  returns,  or  we  will  find  our- 
selves reduced  to  our  allowance  named  in  papa's 
ridiculous  will,"  advised  careful  Eva. 

"I  hear  that  he  will  be  back  within  a  week," 
Mrs.  Norton  remarked. 

"Yes,  a  short  note  came  this  morning,"  an- 
swered Maude.  "He  is  having  her  rooms  fur- 
nished gorgeously,  and  at  great  expense.  I 
want  you  to  see  them." 

Eva  joined  in.  "He  has  already  spent  more 
on  her  than  on  us  in  all  our  lives." 


THE  JUDGMENT  47 

"  Yes,  but  that,  you  must  remember,  is  a  trait 
of  the  Manning  men.  They  are  always  ready  to 
lavish  their  wealth  on  their  wives,  while  they 
are  young  and  fresh.  I  had  the  same  experi- 
ence with  your  father  that  you  are  now  having 
with  William,  and  as  you  know,  he  gave  me  al- 
most nothing.  Women,  in  the  Manning  family, 
have  always  been  held  of  small  account  as  com- 
pared to  the  sons  and  brothers  through  whom 
is  perpetuated  the  Manning  name  and  money. 
I  know  the  bitterness  of  being  put  aside  for 
others.  If  I  had  not  married  your  Uncle  Nor- 
ton it  would  have  been  a  hard  struggle  for  me 
to  have  maintained  my  position  in  society.  I 
hope  to  see  you  both  well  settled  in  life,  but  I 
dread  the  effects  of  this  unfortunate  marriage 
of  William's  upon  your  prospects,"  and  Mrs. 
Norton  folded  her  hands,  waiting  for  the  effect 
of  her  words. 

She  had  never  forgiven  her  brother  for  hav- 
ing inherited  most  of  their  father's  wealth;  her 
resentment  had  extended  to  her  nephew,  and 
she  was  determined  to  encourage  in  his  sisters 
the  feeling  of  ill  will  implanted  by  his  marriage, 
until  under  her  nurturing  care  it  should  yield 
a  harvest  of  revenge.  Far  down,  too,  in  the 
recesses  of  her  memory  lay  the  recollection  of 
the  time  when  Joseph  Howard,  young,  hand- 
some and  rich,  came  to  New  York.  With  all 


48  THE  JUDGMENT 

the  coquettish  arts  of  the  fully  developed  spin- 
ster, she  had  assailed  his  heart,  only  to  be  met 
by  the  crushing  announcement  of  his  engage- 
ment to  the  young  and  lovely  Miss  Williamson, 
afterward  Eleanor's  mother.  She  had  unceas- 
ingly fostered  since  then  an  increasing  store  of 
vengeful  thoughts. 

Maude's  black  eyes  snapped  resentfully,  and 
her  mouth  extended  itself  into  a  thin  straight 
line,  dividing  her  face. 

In  Eva,  resentment  seemed  less  fierce,  more 
spiteful.  Her  red  nose  grew  redder,  and  her 
pale  eyes  swam  in  tears. 

"But,  my  dears,"  Mrs.  Norton  continued, 
"we  must  remember,  even  in  the  midst  of  our 
disappointments,  to  confine  ourselves  to  con- 
ventional acts,  and  you  should,  if  you  have  not 
already  done  so,  for  the  sake  of  appearances, 
call  upon  Mrs.  Howard." 

"We  did,  and  found  her  out.  We  were  afraid 
he  would  be  angry  if  we  did  not  go." 

"Since  he  had  to  marry,  it's  some  little  com- 
fort that  he  chose  a  woman  from  our  own  set. 
He  might  have  married  some  dreadful  person. 
They  often  do,  when  they  get  this  marrying 
craze.  I  intend  to  call  on  Mrs.  Howard  on  my 
way  home  this  afternoon.  Tell  me  something 
about  the  girl.  I  hear  that  she  is  beautiful." 

Maude  answered  quickly,  "I  am  sure  I  can- 


THE  JUDGMENT  49 

not  see  any  signs  of  beauty  in  her.  The  day 
she  was  married  she  looked  more  like  a  piece 
of  mechanism  than  a  living  woman.  Her  face 
was  as  white  as  paper,  and  she  was  as  stiff  as 
if  she  had  been  frozen.  She  seems  as  cold  as 
ice.  I  don't  believe  she  has  a  heart." 

"So  she  is  not  handsome?  I  think  I  remem- 
ber her  as  a  very  pretty  child." 

"Some  people  might  think  so;  for  my  part 
I  prefer  some  animation." 

At  Manning's  club  his  surprising  marriage 
still  made  gossip.  A  crowd  of  men  loitered 
round  the  tables.  "I  hear  that  Manning  and 
his  young  wife  are  expected  back  in  a  few 
days,"  said  one. 

"That  so?  They  say  she  is  a  beauty  and 
very  young.  Ever  see  her?" 

"No,  not  since  her  father  died.  She  is 
young,  though.  Too  young,  I  guess,  to  know 
Manning.  Wonder  how  Mademoiselle  Follette 
takes  it." 

"I  don't  know,  but  I  guess  it  cost  Manning 
something  to  quiet  her." 

' '  And  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk !  What  about  her  ? ' ' 
At  the  laugh  following  this  question  an  old  man 
put  down  his  paper,  revealing  himself  as  Dr. 
Bryan,  and  peered  over  his  glasses. 

"Who  made  the  match?"  asked  the  first 
speaker. 


50  THE  JUDGMENT 

"Her  mother,  I  guess.  Howard's  money  left 
the  country  with  Johnson  Evans." 

"Yes,  I  heard  something  of  that;  and  so  they 
went  after  Manning's.  That  it,  eh?" 

"Guess  so,"  laughed  the  other  man.  "Girls, 
nowadays,  are  pretty  wise,  and  no  doubt  this 
young  beauty  was  as  willing  as  she  needs  to 
be." 

Dr.  Bryan  jumped  up,  his  face  purple.  "You 
damned  little  whipper-snapper,"  he  bellowed, 
"who  are  you  to  be  meddling  in  people's  af- 
fairs ?  What  do  you  know  about  Joe  Howard 's 
daughter?  I'll  crush  the  life  out  of  you,  if  you 
open  your  mouth  again.  If  it  were  not  be- 
neath the  dignity  of  a  man  to  notice  you,  I 
would  throw  you  out  of  the  window.  Don't  let 
me  ever  hear  you  mention  the  name  of  Joe  How- 
ard's  daughter  again.  It  is  a  shame  that  such 
creatures  as  you  should  live,"  and  Dr.  Bryan 
shook  his  crumpled  paper  in  the  face  of  the 
astonished  young  dandy,  rapidly  retreating 
from  this  unexpected  onslaught. 

Still  muttering,  when  he  had  donned  his  over- 
coat, the  old  man  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes, 
and  left  the  club  room  in  disgust  and  sorrow. 

When  Manning  and  Eleanor  arrived,  New 
York  was  in  the  throes  of  a  mighty  snow-storm. 
Eleanor  stepped  into  the  carriage,  shivering 
as  the  cold  night  wind  struck  her  face. 


THE  JUDGMENT  51 

Manning  was  in  no  pleasant  mood ;  cold  irri- 
tated him.  He  gave  his  orders  in  harsh  tones, 
and  enveloped  in  his  huge  fur  coat,  crouched  in 
a  corner  of  the  carriage,  blue  and  trembling. 

The  driver  lashed  his  horses  to  their  fastest 
gait  over  the  slippery  pavement,  and  as  she 
watched  the  flickering  lights  through  the  fall- 
ing snow,  Eleanor  felt  life's  burden  fall  upon 
her,  harder  and  heavier  than  before. 

As  they  approached,  the  house  was  well 
lighted  and  the  door  held  open  by  an  obsequious 
footman.  Manning's  sisters  were  waiting  in 
the  long  drawing-room,  where  were  bright 
lights  and  a  fireplace  filled  with  leaping  flames. 

"Well,  girls,  here  we  are,"  Manning  began. 

"Nearly  frozen  to  death,  too,  I  am  sure,  poor 
man,"  from  Maude,  eager  to  touch  aright  her 
brother's  selfish  heart. 

Manning  advanced  towards  the  fire,  and  his 
sisters  busied  themselves  about  him.  He  was 
too  cold  to  think  of  the  reception  they  were 
giving  to  his  bride,  as  she  stood  waiting,  white 
and  cold,  until  turning  he  saw  her,  and  said: 
"Come  to  the  fire,  Eleanor.  Girls,  here  is  your 
new  sister.  I  was  so  cold  I  forgot  everything." 

They  touched  Eleanor's  cold  face  with  their 
thin,  tightly-drawn  lips,  and  in  carefully 
phrased  greeting,  declared  their  delight  at  her 
coming.  But  Eleanor's  face  did  not  relax,  and 


52  THE  JUDGMENT 

at  the  first  opportunity  she  arose,  saying:  "I 
am  so  tired  that  I  would  like  to  go  to  my 
rooms." 

"No  doubt  you  are  tired,"  Maude  responded, 
rising  to  show  the  way,  and  as  they  went  up- 
stairs she  said  perfunctorily: 

"You  find  New  York  very  different  from 
Florida,  no  doubt." 

"Yes,  New  York  seems  very  cold." 

"Your  mother's  rooms  are  ready,  but  she 
preferred  to  wait  for  your  arrival,  before  she 
came,"  Maude  went  on.  "How  do  you  like 
this?"  Eleanor  glanced  around  the  beautiful 
apartments.  "William  wrote  that  you  liked 
your  dressing-room  in  Florida,  and  so  he  had  it 
copied  for  you  here.  I  am  sure  there  are  not 
more  lovely  rooms  in  all  New  York." 

"They  are  certainly  very  beautiful,"  Eleanor 
answered,  but  there  was  little  animation  in  her 
voice. 

"Well,  I  must  not  keep  you  up  when  you  are 
so  tired.  I  will  go,  and  you  can  tell  us  of  Flor- 
ida in  the  morning,"  and  Maude  left  her  with  a 
hypocritical  pretense  of  kindliness. 

The  next  day  when  Eleanor  entered  the 
breakfast  room  she  found  Manning  and  his 
sisters  waiting  for  her.  His  dark  face  wore 
an  unusually  peevish  expression.  "I  must  re- 
quest you  to  be  prompt  in  coming  to  meals, 


THE  JUDGMENT  53 

Eleanor,"  he  said;  ' 'nothing  is  more  distaste- 
ful to  me  than  having  to  wait." 

The  rebuke  acted  as  a  stimulus  to  Eleanor's 
jaded  spirits,  but  it  gave  her  no  more  love  for 
Manning  nor  for  his  sisters  who  heard  her  re- 
ceive it. 

Maude's  black  eyes  flashed  to  Eva's  pale 
ones,  a  look  of  pleased  intelligence.  "Had  you 
informed  me  as  to  the  breakfast  hour,"  Eleanor 
answered,  "I  should  not  have  kept  you  wait- 
ing." 

Surprised  at  the  new  note  in  her  voice,  Man- 
ning looked  at  her.  Stirred  by  her  beauty,  a 
momentary  kindliness  flashed  through  his  ill 
humor,  and  lent  him  the  grace  to  say:  "Then  it 
is  our  fault;  please  forgive  the  oversight." 

Eva  turned  to  Eleanor.  "There  are  count- 
less cards  and  invitations  waiting  for  you. 
Your  hands  will  be  full  when  you  begin  to  sift 
them  out." 

"I  will  help  you,  my  dear,  when  you  are 
ready  for  that,"  Manning  joined  in.  "There 
are  some  places  to  which  I  do  not  wish  you  to 
go,  and  there  are  some  people  whose  acquaint- 
ance I  wish  you  to  cultivate."  Though  Eleanor 
made  slight  answer  to  her  husband's  remarks, 
the  expression  on  her  face  led  him  to  wonder 
if  the  crushed  young  girl  might  yet  develop 
into  a  woman  hard  to  manage. 


54  THE  JUDGMENT 

After  breakfast,  at  his  request,  Eleanor 
joined  Manning.  "I  want  to  discuss  with  you 
the  final  arrangements  for  your  mother's  com- 
ing," he  said.  "Doubtless  you  are  anxious  to 
be  together,  and  it  is  with  this  view  that  I  have 
selected  rooms  for  her  near  your  own.  Would 
you  like  to  see  them?'* 

In  the  rooms  set  apart  for  Mrs.  Howard's 
use  Manning  had  manifested  his  willingness  to 
repay  her  for  her  co-operation  in  his  suit. 

It  was  a  place  expressive  of  comfort  and  lux- 
urious ease,  and  as  Eleanor's  eyes  rested  on 
its  beauty  she  told  herself:  "This  will  satisfy 
mother  that  she  made  a  good  bargain." 

As  she  did  not  speak,  Manning  asked:  "Do 
you  think  this  will  please  her?  She  said  she 
wanted  it  done  in  lilac." 

"I  think  it  will,"  she  answered  slowly,  won- 
dering bitterly  how  many  details  of  the  bargain 
had  been  settled  without  her  knowledge. 

When  Mrs.  Howard  arrived  and  with  out- 
stretched arms  rushed  to  her  crying,  "My 
darling  child,"  Eleanor  was  impressed  by  the 
change  in  her  mother's  appearance.  She  was 
bright  and  cheerful.  Her  figure  had  regained 
much  of  its  youthful  grace  and  symmetry,  and 
the  color  glowed  in  her  cheeks  almost  as  if 
placed  there  by  the  expert  hands  of  nature. 

Eleanor   instinctively  turned    away,    and   a 


THE  JUDGMENT  55 

spasm  of  pain  crossed  her  face,  thinking  of  the 
years  to  which  all  these  things  condemned  her. 

Mrs.  Howard  could  see  the  change  wrought 
in  her  daughter's  face  by  the  past  few  weeks, 
hut  it  was  not  in  her  nature  to  sympathize  with. 
Eleanor's  "heroics."  She  entered  into  the  en- 
joyment of  her  softly  feathered  nest,  unmind- 
full  of  all  hut  it,  while  into  Eleanor's  heart 
grew  the  realization  that  she  was  as  nothing 
contrasted  to  her  mother's  greed  for  luxury. 

The  following  morning  Eleanor  in  her  pri- 
vate sitting-room,  was  engaged  in  writing  let- 
ters. Manning  had  carefully  assorted  the  ac- 
cumulated invitations,  arranging  them  into  two 
lots.  The  pile  of  invitations  to  be  declined  was 
answered,  and  she  had  begun  on  those  to  which 
answers  of  acceptance  must  be  sent. 

Her  mother  entered  and  began  to  talk.  "I 
am  glad  that  Dr.  Bryan  has  not  had  the  im- 
pertinence to  call  on  us  after  the  way  in  which 
he  talked  to  me,  when  you  were  married." 

Eleanor  raised  her  head  and  said:  " Talked 
to  you,  mother;  when  and  what  did  he  say?" 
Then  followed  an  account,  colored  to  Mrs.  How- 
ard's fancy,  of  the  conversation  with  the  Doc- 
tor. "Promise  me,  Eleanor,  that  if  he  calls 
you  will  refuse  to  see  him." 

Eleanor  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  at 
last  asked  coldly:  "Do  you  mean  to  ask  me  to 


56  THE  JUDGMENT 

refuse  to  see  father's  best  friend,  and  my  only 
one?  I  shall  certainly  not  do  so.  If  I  did  not 
have  him  to  care  for  me,  I  should  be  more 
friendless  than  I  am.  Ask  something  else, 
mother. " 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  Lenten  season,  with  its  assumption  of  de- 
mureness,  descended  upon  society,  and  afforded 
a  rest  to  the  jaded  devotees  of  fashion.  There 
were  fewer  entertainments,  but  the  " smaller" 
evenings  brought  to  the  frivolous  that  distrac- 
tion without  which  life  to  them  would  lose  its 
interest. 

In  her  anxiety  that  Eleanor  should  prove  a 
success  in  society,  Mrs.  Howard  noticed  with 
increasing  alarm  her  daughter's  unconcealed 
disgust  at  the  flagrant  flirtations  of  many  of 
the  women  whom  she  met. 

"You  must  not  show  your  feelings  so  plainly, 
Eleanor,"  her  mother  said,  disapproving  her 
bare  civility  of  the  day  before,  when  Mrs.  Van 
Buskirk  had  called  at  the  Manning  home. 

"Do  you  mean  that  I  should  pretend  to  be 
glad  to  see  her?  No  woman  could  behave  more 
shamelessly  than  she." 

"You  can't  help  what  she  does,  and  if  you 
continue  to  snub  her,  as  you  have  been  doing, 
people  will  say  that  you  are  jealous  of  her. 
Indeed,  they  are  saying  so  now." 

"I,  jealous  of  a  woman  like  that?  How  can 
anyone  imagine  it?"  Eleanor  spoke  coldly. 

61 


58  THE  JUDGMENT 

"Why,  William,  of  course." 

"And  what  of  him?" 

"Well,  if  you  must  know,  everyone  says  he 
was  on  very  friendly  relations  with  her  last 
winter.  Everybody  knows  it,  and  talks  about 
it,  and  if  you  don't  receive  her  pleasantly,  they 
will  say  you  are  jealous.  You  must  exert  your- 
self to  hold  William's  love;  use  all  your  attract- 
iveness and  your  beauty,  and  meet  him  with 
smiles.  He  will  begin  to  see  that  other  men 
may  admire  you.  This  will  make  him  love  you 
more,  and  he  may  let  that  woman  go ;  but  unless 
something  new  comes  out,  you  will  have  to  treat 
her  more  cordially." 

"Mother!  Mother!  how  can  you  talk  so? 
Are  wealth  and  social  position  the  only  things 
worth  living  for?  I  cannot  endure  the  woman, 
or  the  kind  of  society  in  which  she  moves,  and 
you  tell  me  that  I  must  associate  with  her  for 
the  sake  of  society.  I  thought  I  had  made  suf- 
ficient sacrifice  when  I  married  to  please 
you—" 

But  here  her  mother  interrupted.  "Such 
tirades  are  in  very  bad  taste,  Eleanor,  you  must 
learn  to  overlook  many  things  tolerated  by 
older  and  wiser  ones  than  you,  or  you  will 
certainly  lose'  the  place  William  has  given 
you." 

Manning  had  planned  to  make  their  first  for- 


,THE  JUDGMENT  59 

mal  entertainment  a  large  ball  during  Easter 
week.  The  weather  was  particularly  fine. 

Eleanor  was  dressed  in  soft  clinging  satin  of 
a  creamy  tint,  enhancing  her  calm  stateliness, 
as  she  stood  at  her  husband's  side  to  receive 
their  guests. 

"Heavens!  Look  at  her!"  Maude  gasped, 
in  unexpected  outburst  at  Eleanor's  beauty. 

"Look,  Maude,  look!  When  he  buys  pearls 
like  those  it  means  that  we  will  not  get  much." 
And  Eva  clutched  Maude's  large  bare  arm  with 
energy. 

"Don't  pinch  my  arm  off  about  it,"  snapped 
Maude. 

As  the  guests  arrived,  Eleanor  greeted  them 
with  composed  cordiality ;  that  cordiality  which 
we  assume  when  we  wish  to  blind  the  world 
to  the  cold  indifference  beneath.  Only  once 
throughout  the  evening  did  her  face  brighten 
into  anything  like  warmth;  when  Dr.  Bryan 
bowed  with  old-time  courtliness  above  her  out- 
stretched hand. 

When  Mrs.  Norton  came,  her  face  showed 
that  she  had  lost  none  of  the  acidity  of  her  tem- 
perament. She  bestowed  upon  Eleanor  a 
searching  scrutiny,  then  lifted  her  voice  to  a 
tone  distinctly  audible  throughout  the  crowded 
room:  "Ah,  my  dear,  how  are  you?  Quite  like 
a  South  Sea  Island  princess,  I  see.  How  are 


60  THE  JUDGMENT 

you,  William?  Feeling  better  than  you  look,  I 
hope.*'  And  passing  on  to  Mrs.  Howard,  who 
stood  a  few  steps  beyond  her  daughter,  she 
grasped  her  hand,  and  holding  it  fast,  to  pre- 
vent an  escape  before  the  conclusion  of  her  re- 
marks, said,  while  everyone  listened:  "Good 
evening,  Mrs.  Howard,  I  hardly  knew  you,  you 
are  looking  so  remarkably  improved.  You  have 
undoubtedly  secured  a  new  maid  lately.  What 
a  genius  she  is,  to  be  sure."  Perfectly  aware 
of  the  close  attention  of  the  amused  onlookers, 
the  old  woman  went  on—  "You  must  tell  us 
how  you  were  able  to  secure  this  treasure.  Ah, 
no?  then  it  leaves  us  with  only  our  imagination 
to  enlighten  us,"  and  she  passed  on  delighted 
at  the  storm  of  rage  she  left  in  Mrs.  Howard's 
face. 

Maude  and  Eva  saw  her  coming.  They  had 
heard  her  remarks,  and  were  eager  to  propiti- 
ate her  at  least  into  leniency  towards  them- 
selves. As  she  looked  around  at  the  profuse 
floral  decorations,  she  snorted  with  rage,  and 
turned  to  Maude,  saying:  "Perfectly  disgust- 
ing, such  display!  I  never  saw  anything  like 
it.  Simply  ridiculous!"  Then  looking  at  Eva, 
and  pretending  to  lower  her  voice  as  if  it  were 
intended  for  Eva's  ears  alone,  she  said:  "Poor 
child!  Do  powder  your  nose.  It  is  a  perfect 
beet." 


THE  JUDGMENT  61 

The  house  was  filled  with  hundreds  of  guests ; 
music  floated  softly  from  an  invisible  band,  and 
the  hum  of  eager  voices  was  heard  everywhere. 
Presently  a  stir  began,  and  amid  that  subdued 
hush  which  indicates  expectancy,  somebody 
whispered  loudly:  "It  is  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk,  I 
wonder  how  they  will  take  it?"  and  many  eager 
eyes  turned  toward  the  door. 

Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  came  in,  three  masculine 
satellites  accompanying  her.  She  was  a  woman 
of  voluptuous  beauty.  Her  black  curling  hair 
was  gathered  high  on  her  head,  and  in  its  dark- 
ness shone  a  coronet  of  diamonds.  Her  skin 
was  neither  dark,  nor  fair,  but  soft,  warm  and 
glowing,  shading  from  creamy  tints  into  bril- 
liantly red  cheeks  and  lips.  Her  white  shoul- 
ders were  more  than  generously  displayed,  but 
Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  seemed  not  to  mind,  and  her 
escorts  appeared  well  pleased.  Her  gown  of 
red  satin  was  overhung  with  tulle,  and  floated 
and  hung  and  swayed  round  her  beautiful  figure 
as  if  caressing  its  enticing  curves.  Scarlet, 
flaming  red  from  head  to  foot,  she  stood  as  if 
encased  in  flames,  the  diamonds  on  her  breast 
and  head  like  sparks  of  fire.  Her  head  was 
thrown  back,  as  she  stood  a  moment  in  laugh- 
ing conversation  in  the  doorway,  that  all  might 
see  her  entrance. 

As  she  advanced  towards  the  hostess,  her 


62  THE  JUDGMENT 

black  eyes  rested  on  Eleanor  for  a  short  mo- 
ment, then  turned  and  fastened  themselves  on 
Manning.  A  smile  hovered  round  the  beauti- 
ful mouth,  made  for  ardent  kissing,  and  a 
world  of  burning,  glowing  love,  seemingly 
sprang  into  life  and  irradiated  her  face,  now 
like  a  siren's  calling  to  the  heart  of  the  man 
for  whom  she  longs. 

Eleanor  saw  the  sudden  response  that  sprang 
into  Manning's  face  at  the  open  challenge  of 
the  woman.  "Shameless!"  cried  her  outraged 
soul,  but  sternly  repressing  the  outraged  feel- 
ings that  struggled  for  freedom,  she  turned  to 
greet  the  woman  looking  into  her  eyes  with 
smiling  insolence. 

When  Mrs.  Norton  remarked  aloud  as  Mrs. 
Van  Buskirk  passed  her,  ''She  is  out  in  char- 
acter to-night,  *  The  Scarlet  Woman ', ' '  her  com- 
panion, an  old  grey  haired  man  tittered  aloud. 

Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  turned  to  meet  Mrs.  Nor- 
ton's attack  her  eyes  sparkling  with  the  enjoy- 
ment of  her  retort,  ' '  They  say  that  the  beauti- 
ful bride  resembles  her  father.  Is  that  so, 
Mrs.  Norton?  You  doubtless  remember  him 
best,"  and  laughing  at  the  old  woman's  en- 
raged face,  she  entered  the  ballroom. 

Meanwhile,  half  way  secluded  from  the 
crowd,  behind  the  partly  drawn  draperies  of  a 
large  window,  stood  Charles  De  Witte,  the  cele- 


THE  JUDGMENT  63 

brated  painter  of  female  beauty.  His  face  was 
fairly  aglow  with  delight  as  he  watched  his 
hostess:  "What  beauty!  What  a  joy  to  paint 
her!"  A  woman  turned  her  head,  laughing: 
"Can  you  do  it  better  than  her  maid,  young 
man?"  she  inquired,  for  it  was  Mrs.  Norton, 
whose  rancorous  tongue  seemed  ever  ready  to- 
night with  venom-tipped  remarks. 

De  Witte  turned  to  her,  and  said  warmly: 
"Mrs.  Norton,  I  see  you  confound  the  craft  of 
man  with  the  handiwork  of  God." 

"And  you  are  reaching  an  age,  Madame, 
when  it  would  be  well  to  familiarize  yourself 
with  some  of  His  wonderful  works,"  rejoined 
Dr.  Bryan,  another  witness  of  the  scene. 

Mrs.  Norton  was  the  Doctor's  pet  aversion, 
and  he  was  as  cordially  disliked  by  her.  "How 
much  about  it  do  you  know,  if  one  might  in- 
quire?" she  tartly  responded.  His  reply  was 
immediate:  "At  least  enough  to  prevent  my 
mistaking  for  it  some  objectionable  products 
of  his  Satanic  Majesty,  when  I  meet  them;" 
and  with  a  profound  bow,  the  old  man  passed 
on. 

The  guests  began  to  leave,  and  in  the  crowded 
rooms  it  became  easier  to  move  about. 

Mrs.  Norton  had  missed  Manning,  and  the 
bright  spot  of  color  made  by  Mrs.  Van  Bus- 
kirk's  red  gown.  Somewhere,  she  knew,  they 


64  THE  JUDGMENT 

were  together.  Far  back  in  the  dimly-lit  con- 
servatory, was  a  small  grotto-like  corner  ob- 
scured by  screens  of  palms.  Even  the  most  in- 
discreet would  have  thought  twice  before  choos- 
ing it  as  a  rendezvous,  but  with  the  sureness  of 
a  bird  of  prey,  Mrs.  Norton  sought  it.  A 
slight  sound  caught  her  ear.  "I  thought  so," 
she  exulted,  and  stood  listening  awhile,  then 
boldly  entered,  discovering  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk 
on  a  low  seat,  Manning's  arms  around  her,  as 
she  rested  against  him. 

In  the  darkness  they  could  at  first  recognize 
her  only  by  her  voice.  "Nice  scene!  very  nice 
indeed!  It's  a  great  pity  that  you  two  married 
people  should  each  be  married  to  someone 
else." 

"You  meddlesome  old  devil !"  Mrs.  Van  Bus- 
kirk  cried,  rising  from  her  seat. 

"Do  you  know  by  what  name  society  calls 
you?"  Mrs.  Norton  raved,  her  voice  growing 
louder. 

"For  God's  sake,  Aunt  Norton,  don't  make 
a  scene.  Think  of  the  family.  Don't  speak  so 
loud,  I  beg  of  you,"  Manning  entreated. 

"And  I  must  think  of  the  family,  must  I? 
How  about  you,  William?  Quite  unnecessary 
for  you  to  think  of  anyone  I  suppose.  Your 
loving  new  wife  for  instance.  How  will  she 
like  an  account  of  this?  And  your  mother-in- 


THE  JUDGMENT  65 

law,  William.  Think  of  your  mother-in-law, 
and  of  her  reproachful  tears, "  her  laugh  was 
as  full  of  maliciousness  as  of  unholy  glee. 
"To  think  of  your  falling  from  your  virtuous 
married  state — you,  William,  the  possible  father 
of  a  family!  What  an  example!"  She  barred 
their  way,  and  went  on — "Have  you  thought 
what  an  example  you  are  giving  your  wife? 
With  her  beauty,  and  the  admiration  of  your 
men  friends,  do  you  not  suppose  she  may  have 
a  chance  to  follow  it!" 

"For  mercy's  sake  let's  go.  She  can't  do  any 
worse  if  she  follows  us  through  the  rooms 
preaching  virtue,"  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  snapped. 

"For  God's  sake,  keep  quiet,  Aunt  Norton, 
and  you  can  command  me  in  anything,"  Man- 
ning begged  as  he  passed  her,  but  he  only  re- 
ceived her  assurance— "I'll  be  quiet  as  long  as 
it  suits  me,  William ;  you  can  buy  some  women, 
but  you  can't  buy  me." 

The  next  day  when  Manning  came  down  to 
breakfast,  his  face  was  sullen  and  his  eyes 
puffed.  He  glanced  at  Eleanor,  trying  to  guess 
whether  or  not  his  aunt  had  told  her,  but  there 
was  nothing  in  her  face  to  show  she  knew. 

Mrs.  Howard  never  came  down  to  breakfast, 
but  Maude  and  Eva  straggled  in;  Maude  evi- 
dently in  a  bad  humor,  and  Eva  looking  as  if 
she  had  spent  the  night  in  tears. 


66  THE  JUDGMENT 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?  Yon  both 
look  as  cross  as  I  ever  saw  you,"  their  brother 
asked.  Maude  made  no  reply,  but  Eva,  afraid 
to  remain  silent,  said,  "I  am  sick." 

"Better  see  a  doctor."  After  a  few  mo- 
ments, he  went  on:  "Sick!  So  am  I.  Sick  as 
the  devil  of  this  foolishness.  I  wish  I'd  never 
heard  of  the  damned  ball."  He  gave  his  wife 
a  furious  glance,  indicating  that  with  her  lay 
the  blame. 

"Why  don't  you  talk,  Eleanor.  Can't  you 
do  anything  but  sit  there  with  that  infernal 
superior  smile  on  your  face?  Say  something," 
he  raved. 

"Good  morning,"  she  said,  and  rising  left 
the  room.  "Damnation!"  was  what  he  sent 
after  her. 

After  breakfast,  the  sisters  found  Eleanor  in 
the  library. 

"Are  you  not  too  tired  to  read?"  Maude 
asked,  sinking  into  a  sleepy  hollow  chair. 

"No,  I  am  not  so  tired  as  I  thought  I  should 
be.  I  slept  well." 

"Well,  I  didn't.  I  had  a  perfectly  horrid 
night.  I  did  not  enjoy  the  ball  in  the  least, 
besides,  did  you  notice  how  many  of  the  women 
were  drunk?" 

"I  noticed  some  peculiar  behavior,"  Eleanor 
answered. 


THE  JUDGMENT  67 

"Well,  I  should  think  so ;  both  Mrs.  Van  Bus- 
kirk  and  that  Martin  woman  tried  to  empty 
every  punch  bowl  in  the  house.  Mrs.  Martin 
reeled  as  she  walked.  Everyone  noticed  her, 
though  she  wasn't  the  only  one  who  took  too 
much  champagne.  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  openly 
says  that  she  only  takes  enough  wine  to  make 
her  feel  good,  and  look  pretty,  but  the  only  rea- 
son she  is  never  very  drunk  is  that  she  is  drink- 
ing all  the  time." 

Eva  chimed  in,  "I  am  sure,  Eleanor,  I  can't 
see  how  you  could  fail  to  notice  the  state  many 
of  them  were  in.  It  took  three  men  to  put  Mrs. 
Martin  into  her  carriage.  I  saw  it  myself." 

"Perhaps  I  am  not  observant,"  Eleanor  re- 
plied, unwilling  to  discuss  the  subject. 

"I  have  often  thought  you  so,  but  if  after 
last  night,  considering  all  there  was  to  see, 
your  eyes  are  still  closed,  you  are  more  than 
unobservant,  you  are  blind."  While  Maude 
spoke  with  unpleasant  meaning,  Eleanor  only 
smiled,  for  she  was  learning  daily. 

An  hour  later,  Maude  alone  in  the  library 
was  absently  watching  the  flames  in  the  grate, 
when  Mrs.  Norton  entered.  "I  took  my  morn- 
ing drive,  as  usual,  even  though  I  was  up  so 
late,  and  thought  I'd  come  in  to  see  how  you 
are.  What  is  the  matter  ?  You  look  as  though 
you  had  lost  your  last  friend." 


68  THE  JUDGMENT 

"I  couldn't  lose  what  I  never  had,"  Maude 
answered  moodily. 

"Yes,  you  have  one  friend,  Maude;  myself. 
This,  of  course,  is  unusual,  since  we  are  related, 
but  as  you  cannot  interfere  with  me  and  I 
would  not  do  so  with  you,  we  can  safely  be 
friends.  I  shall  speak  plainly  to  you.  Are  we 
in  danger  of  being  interrupted?  Where  is  that 
girl?" 

' '  She  went  for  a  drive  from  which  I  wish  she 
might  never  return.  I  hate  her." 

"I  know  you  do,  and  everyone  else  will  soon 
know  it  if  you  show  it  as  plainly  as  you  are 
doing  now.  Have  you  any  claim  on  Charles 
DeWitte?" 

Maude's  face  crimsoned  at  this  sudden  read- 
ing of  her  secret.  "N-o,"  she  stammered. 

"It  is  as  plain  as  day  that  you  are  infatuated 
with  him,  and  it  is  also  plain  that  he  is  going 
to  become  infatuated  with  this  sister-in-law  of 
yours." 

Maude  was  unprepared  and  her  jealousy 
broke  loose,  as  she  sobbed,  "Oh,  I  hate  herl  I 
wish  she  was  dead." 

"Yes,  but  don't  be  a  fool.  Do  something; 
sit  up  and  listen."  When  she  had  heard  a 
complete  account  of  her  brother's  stolen  meet- 
ing with  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk — 

"But  I  don't  see  how  this  can  hurt  her,  Aunt 


THE  JUDGMENT  69 

Norton.  You  know  she  cares  nothing  for  Wil- 
liam," she  urged. 

"You  don't?  Then  you  have  no  sense. 
Can't  you  see  that  he  is  going  back  to  the  Van 
Buskirk  woman,  and  that  there  is  no  telling 
how  it  will  end!" 

"Yes,  but—" 

"Don't  say  'but'  to  me,"  interrupted  her 
aunt.  "We  can  break  up  this  marriage  if  we 
go  about  it  right." 

' '  I  don 't  care  if  she  keeps  William  forever, ' ' 
Maude  cried,  again  breaking  into  angry  weep- 
ing, "if  she  only—" 

"Poor  fool!"  Her  aunt  cast  the  words  at 
her  as  though  they  were  stones :  "You  mean  she 
can  have  William,  but  that  you  want  DeWitte. 
We  all  know  that;  but  if  you  are  not  careful, 
she  will  soon  have  DeWitte  and  William  too, 
and  then  where  will  you  be?" 


CHAPTER  V 

"A  GREAT  compliment  was  paid  you  last  night, 
Eleanor.  DeWitte  wants  to  paint  your  portrait 
for  the  next  exhibition,"  Manning  said  to  his 
wife,  as  the  family  sat  together  at  the  luncheon 
table. 

"How  perfectly  lovely,"  Mrs.  Howard  ex- 
claimed, "and  how  envious  all  the  women  will 
be.  Of  course  you  said  'yes'  William?" 

"Yes,  I  thanked  him,  and  promised  that  the 
sittings  should  begin  at  once." 

"But  I  do  not  care  for  r.otoriety.  I  do  not 
want  a  portrait  of  myself  exhibited."  Eleanor 
spoke  for  the  first  time.  There  was  displeasure 
in  her  voice  at  being  so  lightly  considered. 

Mrs.  Howard  reached  out  a  warning  hand,  at 
Manning's  quick  look  of  irritation,  and  she  tried 
to  cover  Eleanor's  displeasure  by  saying:  "Of 
course,  Eleanor,  you  wish  the  painting  made." 

"I  intend  to  buy  it  if  he  will  sell  it,  provided 
I  like  the  work,"  Manning  responded.  Eleanor 
knew  she  must  agree  to  whatever  her  husband 
demanded,  but  there  was  something  that  made 
her  stipulate  that  Manning  purchase  it  after 
the  exhibition. 

70 


THE  JUDGMENT  71 

No  one  noticed  the  painful  intensity  of 
Maude's  expression,  or  the  eagerness  with 
which  she  waited  for  Eleanor's  reply.  Like  a 
burning  match  applied  to  powder,  her  brother's 
words  had  set  on  fire  her  smoldering  jealous 
hatred.  She  rose  before  the  meal  was  finished, 
and  went  to  her  room. 

Since  the  scene  with  her  in  the  conservatory, 
on  the  night  of  the  ball,  Manning  had  appar- 
ently forgotten  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk,  and  gave 
more  attention  to  Eleanor,  but  Mrs.  Van  Bus- 
kirk  had  not  despaired.  "I  will  give  him  a 
year  or  so,"  she  said,  laughing  at  his  desertion 
of  herself.  The  sight  of  a  man  devoting  his 
time  to  his  own  wife  to  the  exclusion  of  other 
women,  she  declared,  was  to  her  unusually  re- 
freshing, but  she  never  failed  to  leave  the  poi- 
soned hint  that  Manning's  close  attendance  on 
his  wife  emanated  from  suspicion  of  her  con- 
duct. And  all  the  time  Eleanor  beat  against  the 
network  of  deceit  around  her,  and  rebelled 
against  her  bondage  to  the  man  she  now  de- 
spised. 

Alternately  kind  and  unreasonably  cruel; 
jealous  over  nothing,  Manning  seemed  ever  on 
the  watch  for  hidden  meanings  in  her  every 
glance  at  other  men;  then  in  dejected  repent- 
ance returned  to  her,  declaring  his  unworthi- 
ness.  Once  he  had  told  her  in  one  of  these 


72  THE  JUDGMENT 

moods,  "When  you  give  me  a  son,  I  will  be  so 
happy,  I  will  never  again  mistreat  you."  They 
were  returning  from  a  ball  at  the  Overton 
home.  Tired  out,  Eleanor  leaned  her  head 
against  the  softly  cushioned  carriage,  and  was 
half  way  asleep  when  awakened  by  Manning's 
kisses  upon  her  face.  "Look  up  at  me,  my 
girl;  look  up  and  let  me  see  your  face.  To 
think  that  you  are  mine,  all  mine,"  and  again 
he  covered  her  face  and  hair  with  passionate 
kisses.  "Don't  you  see  that  I  never  have  eyes 
for  anyone  else  now,  Eleanor!  Of  course,  I 
know  you  know  of  the  talk  concerning  Mrs.  Van 
Buskirk,  but  there  has  been  nothing  between  us 
now  for — some  time — and  there  never  will  be 
any  more  if  you  are  good.  I  say,  Eleanor,  I 
want  to  settle  down ;  have  our  own  family ;  our 
own  children.  I  am  anxious  for  a  son.  I  want 
my  name  handed  down.  I  am  the  last  of  the 
family.  Give  me  a  son,  and  I  will  be  your  will- 
ing slave,  yours  and  his." 

"Do  you  think  our  life  would  be  good  sur- 
roundings for  them,  if  we  had  children?" 
Eleanor  asked  in  a  muffled  tone,  while  over  her 
heart  swept  recollections  of  the  many  open  in- 
sults and  covert  insinuations  she  had  endured 
since  entering  this  man's  home,  at  his  hands 
and  those  of  his  spitefully  jealous  sisters. 

"As  for  that,"  he  replied,  "I  promise  you 


THE  JUDGMENT  73 

now  that  when  this  happiness  is  mine,  I  will 
provide  another  home  for  Maude  and  Eva. 
From  that  day  you  shall  have  no  wish  unfilled ; 
your  mother  shall  be  amply  provided  for,  and 
you  shall  live  in  perfect  happiness  if  my  love, 
my  gratitude  and  my  wealth  can  secure  it  for 
you.  Ah !  Eleanor,  I  beg  you,  make  me  the  hap- 
piest of  men,  and  make  me  so,  soon." 

•  •  •  •  • 

George  Overton  was  a  business  man,  en- 
grossed in  making  money.  Between  him  and 
the  uplifted  soulfulness  of  his  wife  existed  little 
of  the  atmosphere  she  loved.  She  disdained  his 
sordid  occupation,  and  refused  to  interest  her- 
self in  the  details  of  his  business,  declining  to 
sink  to  anything  more  mundane  than  freely 
spending  the  money  he  made.  She  was  ever 
on  the  search  for  sympathy  and  understanding 
of  her  heart-to-heart  communings ;  for  one  who 
might  afford  a  safe  and  willing  listener  to  the 
outpourings  of  her  misunderstood  and  unap- 
preciated soul.  "Mrs.  Oversoul,"  the  jest  of 
a  sarcastic  friend,  fitted  so  well  that  the  name 
was  adopted.  Her  parlors,  one  afternoon,  were 
more  than  usually  filled,  when  Eleanor  and  her 
mother  entered. 

At  one  side  stood  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk,  sur- 
rounded by  the  usual  crowd  of  men.  Among 
them  was  Charles  DeWitte.  As  Eleanor  passed 


74  THE  JUDGMENT 

them,  he  remarked:  "There  goes  the  most 
beautiful  of  living  women."  Mrs.  Van  Bus- 
kirk  turned  to  him  a  mocking  face.  "Do  not 
throw  away  your  admiration  on  that  iceberg. 
Her  heart  is  a  desert  waste;  no  man  can  live 
there."  DeWitte  audaciously  replied:  "Per- 
haps he  who  might  have  lived  therein  had  been 
previously  blighted  in  a  more  torrid  clime." 

In  the  laugh  that  followed,  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk 
joined,  for  she  was  not  sensitive.  She  turned 
to  Robert  Van  Arsdale,  crying  in  mock  distress : 
"Rescue  me,  oh,  Bobby  of  the  curling  locks, 
from  the  unjust  attacks  of  this  sharp-tongued 
slanderer." 

Mrs.  Overton,  chatting  with  Eleanor  and 
Mrs.  Howard,  heard  the  laughter,  and  cried, 
"Come  over  here,  all  of  you,  and  tell  us  the 
cause  of  your  merriment,"  lifting  her  great 
blue  eyes  appealingly  to  DeWitte's  face. 

"You  wouldn't  understand,  it's  all  in  plain 
English,"  laughed  back  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk,  in 
an  effort  to  keep  DeWitte  away,  but  as  he 
moved  forward,  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  followed,  her 
crowd  trailing  behind  her. 

Just  as  the  women  greeted  each  other,  Bobby 
Van  Arsdale  turned  to  John  Hilbrandt  and 
asked,  under  his  breath:  "What  is  the  differ- 
ence between  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  and  Mrs.  Man- 
ning?" 


THE  JUDGMENT  75 

Hilbrandt,  taking  it  literally,  anwered: 
"Why,  by  Jove,  there  is  lots  of  difference.  I 
don't  think  they  are  at  all  alike."  Bobby 
laughed  in  glee,  then  turned  to  Mrs.  Gordon 
Leigh,  repeating  his  question.  Propound- 
ing conundrums  was  Bobby's  chief  de- 
light. 

She  answered  quickly,  "Why,  Manning,  of 
course." 

"I  love  to  have  my  conundrums  guessed," 
said  Bobby. 

"Don't  call  that  a  conundrum,  Bobby,  a  blind 
man  could  answer  that." 

"It  is  not  fair,"  cried  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk, 
"for  you  two  to  be  whispering  there  behind  our 
backs;  I  will  not  permit  it." 

"You  wouldn't  like  it  any  better  if  we  made 
our  remarks  aloud,"  half  whispered  Bobby,  in 
laughing  impudence. 

A  frown  gathered  on  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk 's 
beautiful  brow,  as  the  thought  stirred,  that  per- 
haps they  were  beginning  to  laugh  at  her  more 
than  she  would  like. 

In  the  short  silence,  Mrs.  Overton  grasped  the 
opportunity  to  capture  DeWitte's  attention. 
Her  hands  clasped  each  other,  her  shoulders 
rose  as  she  cried  in  her  intense  way:  "Oh,  that 
last  afternoon  in  your  studio!  I  can  never 
forget  it.  My  soul  was  lifted,  and  borne  away 


76  THE  JUDGMENT 

on  dream  wings  to  realms  of  joy.  Let  there  be 
another  soon,"  and  her  blue  eyes  clung  to  his, 
as  if  they  would  never  release  him. 

DeWitte  was  surely  not  laughing  at  his 
hostess,  but  his  mouth  struggled  hard  with  its 
desire  to  twitch,  and  in  his  eyes  little  imps  of 
laughter  danced,  but  "Mrs.  Oversoul"  did  not 
see  it.  She  heard  her  own  voice,  and  in  her 
ears  it  was  always  sweet.  She  continued :  "  Ah ! 
for  a  soul  like  yours !  What  joy !  Each  thrill, 
each  bound  of  your  heart  awakening  to  newer 
and  grander  achievements.  We  can  but  grovel 
and  admire;  adore  and  cherish  the  glowing 
spark  that  in  you  lives.  Oh,  say  it  now !  Tell 
us  that  you  will  never  withdraw  it  from  our 
enraptured  eyes.  Say  that  the  masterly  work 
of  your  genius  may  ever  remain  our  own,  for 
our  hearts  are  bleeding  with  your  threat  of 
leaving  us  for  Germany."  Mrs.  Overton's  face 
was  raised  close  to  DeWitte 's,  who  stood  for 
the  instant,  unable  to  reply.  Then  bowing  low, 
he  answered  her  in  a  laughing  voice:  "Then 
bleed  no  more,  dear  heart,  for  I  have  decided  to 
remain  to  attempt  to  paint  from  the  most  lovely 
model  in  the  world.  With  such  an  one,  what 
man  could  fail?"  As  he  spoke,  he  indicated 
Eleanor. 

"Mrs.  Manning!"  cried  Mrs.  Overton,  and 
her  figure  straightened  instantly;  all  the  ardor 


THE  JUDGMENT  77 

left  her  voice,  making  room  for  the  leaping 
green-eyed  monster  come  to  life. 

"Mrs.  Manning?"  echoed  Mrs.  Buskirk;  but 
her  voice  was  calmer,  and  through  its  liquid 
notes,  a  ripple  of  malicious  laughter  broke. 
"Ah,  indeed!  does  William  know?"  DeWitte 
turned  to  the  speaker,  in  his  eyes  a  warning  to 
a  more  careful  woman.  "I  owe  my  good  for- 
tune to  him.  It  is  through  his  request,  that  Mrs. 
Manning  consents  to  sit  for  me.  The  only 
blight  to  my  pleasure  is  that  she  has  coupled 
her  consent  with  the  unkind  condition  that  I 
must  sell  the  picture  to  her  husband  after  it  is 
exhibited. ' ' 

"So  sweet  of  you,  dear  child,"  Mrs.  Van  Bus- 
kirk  cooed  to  Eleanor,  "to  have  thought  of  this 
for  William.  How  he  will  enjoy  the  beautiful 
picture,"  and  again  she  laughed,  as  she  turned 
away. 

On  the  homeward  drive,  her  mother  said: 
"Wasn't  it  funny,  Eleanor,  to  see  Mrs.  Over- 
ton's  and  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk 's  jealousy  when 
Mr.  DeWitte  spoke  of  the  picture.  I  was  so 
amused." 

"Were  you?" 

"Why,  didn't  you  notice  it?"  Mrs.  Howard 
was  surprised. 

"I  cannot  find  it  diverting  to  see  and  know 
that  everything  and  everybody  is  vile  and  base. 


78  THE  JUDGMENT 

Most  of  the  women  we  know  are  depraved ;  the 
men  are  the  same.  Everything  is  lost  sight  of 
except  the  one  great  struggle  for  position,  place, 
supremacy  and  money;  there  is  no  friendship, 
nothing  true  or  good." 

"Why,  child,  what  foolish  words.  Why 
should  you  care?  Of  course,  the  world  is  all 
alike,  but  you  have  everything  to  make  you 
happy.  They  only  envy  you,  and  if  you  are 
very  careful,  I  do  not  think  that  William  will 
go  back  to  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk.  Of  course,  you 
must  be  cautious,  and  of  late  I  have  thought 
you  were  not — "  Her  daughter  interrupted 
her. 

"Do  you  think  I  care  for  that!  What  is  he 
to  me?'* 

Mrs.  Howard  broke  in  irritably:  "Oh, 
Eleanor,  don't  talk  so  insanely.  If  you  have 
not  the  sense  to  be  thankful  for  all  you  have 
gained,  I  will  be  thankful  for  both." 

In  silence,  Eleanor's  thoughts  ran  on.  What 
is  the  difference  between  us?  Am  I  better  than 
they?  They  live  in  secret  shame  with  other 
women's  husbands;  I,  in  no  less  shame  with  a 
man  from  whom  my  heart  turns  in  revolt.  Is 
he  in  reality  my  husband,  for  whom  I  feel  dis- 
gust, contempt  and  hatred  ?  What  is  marriage  ? 
Is  it  this  enslavement  of  the  physical  man  or 
woman,  which  leaves  the  heart  to  search  the 


THE  JUDGMENT  79 

world,  and  freely  take  a  dearer  one,  or  is  it 
ever  a  living  bondage  of  true  souls ! ' ' 

When  an  envious  woman  makes  gifts  to  the 
servants  of  another  woman,  it  generally  means 
that  she  is  getting  that  for  which  she  pays. 
As  a  rule,  the  more  envious  the  woman,  the 
more  generous  is  the  pay ;  -  but  as  Cleo  left 
Maude's  room,  something  round  and  shining 
in  her  hand,  she  muttered:  "Ah!  she  ees 
steengy!  Aixcep  for  me,  what  could  she  do? 
Ond  but  dis  leetle  piece  for  all  I  haf  tole  her. 
Eet  ees  as  nutting,  and  eef  dis  ees  all,  I  vill 
vatch  no  more." 

Within  her  room  sat  Maude,  a  deep  frown  on 
her  brow,  her  chin  resting  in  her  palm,  her  el- 
bow on  the  table  beside  her.  Before  her  were 
the  cards  Cleo  had  brought.  "Charles  De- 
Witte"  was  engraved  upon  them  all,  and  the 
name  stared  upward  with  cruel  distinctness  into 
Maude's  jealous  eyes.  The  flowers  came  each 
morning,  and  Eleanor  usually  received  them 
herself.  She  made  no  effort  to  conceal  the 
cards  which  accompanied  them,  and  Cleo  had 
found  it  easy  to  collect  them,  and  make  it  ap- 
pear an  important  discovery  when  she  dis- 
played to  Maude  her  hands  filled  with  them. 

Servants  soon  learn  to  read  their  masters' 
faces;  their  barometers  of  good  and  bad 
weather;  and  to  convert  to  their  own  interests 


80  THE  JUDGMENT 

the  emotions  mirrored  therein;  and  the  maid's 
agile  touch  played  on  the  vibrating  chords  of 
her  patron's  jealousy,  until  she  changed  the 
jarring  strains  into  song  that  was  sweet  to 
Cleo's  ears,  the  musical  tinkle  of  gold. 

Since  the  commencement  of  the  portrait, 
Maude  had  suffered  all  the  pangs  of  jealous 
rage.  Each  time  Eleanor  left  the  house  for 
DeWitte's  studio,  Cleo  sought  Maude  with  the 
information,  and  from  her  face  gathered  the 
knowledge  that  she  had  found  her  best  market. 
"Eet  ees  to  ze  studio  zat  she  again  goes, 
M'amselle,"  Cleo  began,  returning  an  hour 
later,  unable  to  relinquish  the  hope  of  an  in- 
creased generosity  upon  her  patron's  part. 

Then  Cleo  determined  to  make  her  grand 
stroke:  "Eet  ees  to  M'sieur  you  must  go, 
M'amselle.  Eet  cannot  be  zat  he  knows  of  ze 
many  visits  and  ze  long  time  of  zem  zat  she 
stay.  Eet  would  ruin  her  eef  him  you  tell  of 
eet,"  and  Cleo's  eager  eyes  exhibited  vindictive 
dislike  for  her  young  mistress,  displaying  as 
well,  her  perfect  understanding  of  Maude 's  feel- 
ings. 

Incensed  already,  and  made  more  so  by  this 
assured  reading  of  her  mind,  Maude  spoke  an- 
grily: "You  are  insolent,  girl.  How  dare  you 
speak  so  to  me?" 

Cleo  quailed  under  the  angry  eyes,  until  she 


THE  JUDGMENT  81 

saw  that  the  tears  were  not  far  away,  and  then 
began,  speaking  rapidly,  her  shoulders,  up- 
raised, her  hands  clasped:  "But  ah!  forgif  me, 
M'amselle,  eef  I  haf  done  not  ze  right,  eet  ees 
for  you  alone  I  speak.  Wen  I  see  zat  your 
place  she  haf  here  taken,  pushed  you  aside,  and 
zat  she  now  deceive  you  all,  I  cannot  keep  silent. 
Eet  ees  all  for  you.  You  haf  to  me  been  ze 
angel  of  goodness,  must  I  zen  keep  all  zat  I 
so  plainly  see  from  your  generous  eyes?  You, 
who  are  all  goodness,  cannot  suspect,  I  haf 
see  eet  so  long  zat  I  but  now  forget  myself. 
Ah!  eef  I  you  displease  zen  I  despair.  But,  no 
more  vill  I  speak ;  no,  nef air  vill  I  again  offend. 
Wretched  girl  am  I,  eef  you  forgif  me  not,  but 
my  h-e-a-r-t,  eet  ees  breaking !  I  cannot — no — 
a-h,"  and  the  incoherent  voice  was  drowned  in 
sobs,  as  Cleo  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

Maude  watched  her,  until  she  reached  the 
door,  then  called:  "Come  back,  Cleo,  don't  cry. 
I  do  not  want  to  hurt  your  feelings.  You  shall 
tell  me  what  you  like,"  but  Cleo  sobbed  on: 
"No,  M'amselle,  nef  air  vill  I  again  offend. 
Nefair  vill  I  speak,  eef  I  haf  lose  your  lofe  zen 
to  me  zair  ees  nutting  lef!  Let  me  go.  My 
heart  eet  ees  sad,"  and  she  laid  her  hand  on 
the  door,  her  shoulders  shaking,  her  voice 
broken  with  sobs. 

Maude  knew  she  could  not  let  her  go,  and  so 


82  THE  JUDGMENT 

did  Cleo.  Without  her  help,  what  could  she 
learn  of  Eleanor's  movements.  There  was, 
therefore,  nothing  to  do  but  succumb  to  an  un- 
natural generosity,  and  give  to  Cleo  the  reward 
she  had  earned.  As  she  pressed  the  glittering 
pieces  into  the  girl's  hands,  Maude's  eyes  were 
a  warning,  but  Cleo  cared  nothing  for  that. 
She  had  her  pay  at  last,  and  more  than  she  had 
hoped  for. 

The  smiles  with  artful  slowness  drove  back 
her  grief.  "Eet  ees  not  ze  gole  zat  I  care  for; 
eet  ees  zat  you  vill  not  remove  from  me  your 
precious  lofe.  I  but  take  ze  monie  because  eet 
ees  from  you.  Always  shall  I  keep  eet.  Al- 
ways shall  I  lofe  you,  M'amselle.  Your  Cleo 
forever,  M'amselle,  am  I.  Ah!  but  my  heart 
ees  now  again  in  happiness,  zat  you  will  forgif 
me." 

With  the  door  between  them  everything  was 
changed.  Maude  sank  back  into  her  chair  in 
sullen  defeat.  "That  she  should  dare  to  speak 
so  to  me  I  How  I  hate  Eleanor ! ' ' 

Once  outside,  Cleo's  black  eyes  seemed  to 
pierce  the  closed  door.  The  simulated  grief 
was  entirely  gone,  as  she  looked  at  the  gold,  and 
laughed:  "Who  did  vin,  M'amselle,  you  or  I? 
I  think  eet  vill  be  always  Cleo,"  and  she  ran 
down  the  hall. 


THE  JUDGMENT  83 

"William,  can  you  meet  me  in  my  sitting- 
room?"  Maude  asked  her  brother,  as  they  left 
the  luncheon  table. 

She  was  prepared  for  him  when  he  entered, 
and  indicated  a  chair  near  her  writing  desk, 
standing  open. 

"Well,  here  I  am;  what  is  it  you  want?"  he 
asked. 

"I  want  to  ask  you  for  something,"  Maude 
replied. 

"Yes,  so  I  suppose;  that  is  generally  the  case 
with  you  and  Eva,"  her  brother  laughed  sar- 
castically. 

Maude  was  on  her  mettle  and  began  the  at- 
tack: "It  is  my  mother's  portrait.  I  want  it 
hung  in  here." 

"Indeed,  and  why?  Can  you  not  enjoy  it 
where  it  hangs?" 

"No,  I  cannot;  it  pains  me  to  know  that  it  is 
hanging  downstairs,  in  view  of  all  it  must  see. 
Her  face  should  not  be  there.  Let  me  have  it, 
I  beg,  that  I  may  place  it  where  no  one  with 
dissolute  impunity  dare  insult  the  memory  of 
her  virtuous  life." 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean?  Of  whom 
do  you  speak?" 

"I  imagine  you  can  guess,  Brother  William," 
she  said  scornfully. 

"Speak  out,  Maude,  be  honest  for  once.    It 


84  THE  JUDGMENT 

may  not  hurt  you.  Do  you  mean  that  I  insult 
my  mother's  portrait?" 

"No." 

"Then  who?" 

"Don't  you  know?" 

"Do  you  mean  Eva?" 

"Of  course  not.  The  virtue  of  the  Manning 
women  is  unquestioned." 

'  *  Then  who  in  hell  do  you  mean  ?  Speak  out, 
woman,  I  don't  like  this  sort  of  thing."  He 
rose  from  his  chair  and  advanced  toward  her. 

"Look  on  the  desk  and  see  if  you  do  not  find 
there  some  light  upon  the  subject,"  and  Maude 
pointed  to  the  pile  of  cards. 

"Charles  DeWitte,"  he  read  aloud,  "what 
of  him  ?  How  did  you  come  by  all  these  cards, 
and  what  has  he  to  do  with  it?'r 

1 '  The  cards  came  with  flowers  to  your  wife, '  * 
Maude  stated  in  fierce  tones. 

Manning's  face  suddenly  grew  dark,  but  for 
a  little  while  longer  he  maintained  a  semblance 
of.  calm.  "Yes?  That's  pretty  hard  on  you, 
isn't  it?"  he  sneered. 

Maude  burst  forth:  "How  dare  you,  William! 
But  you  shall  listen  to  me  and  know  how  often 
she  is  alone  with  him  for  hours  at  a  time. 
There  is  a  disgraceful  connection  between  them. 
Are  you  no  part  of  a  man  to  countenance  it? 
Behind  the  cold  dislike  she  feels  for  you,  she 


THE  JUDGMENT  85 

hides  her  love  for  DeWitte.  She  loves  him,  I 
tell  you;  she  loves  him  and  hates  you.  She 
was  with  him  to-day.  She  will  be  again  to- 
morrow. She  loves  DeWitte,  she  loves  him," 
and  shaking  with  excitement  and  emotion,  she 
grasped  her  brother's  arm  with  both  her  trem- 
bling hands. 

"Let  go!"  he  cried,  shaking  her  off,  "you 
are  lying,  and  you  know  it." 

"I  am  not  lying,  she  loves  him;  I  can  prove 
it.  You  shall  see  it." 

Manning  turned  on  her  fiercely;  "Prove  it, 
you  say?  Then  do  so.  Prove  it — prove  it— 
and  you  shall  have  your  price,"  he  cried  half 
choked  with  rage. 

In  her  fury,  Maude  had  gone  further  than  she 
intended,  but  unwilling  to  acknowledge  this,  she 
persisted:  "I  will  prove  it.  "Wait." 

The  days  that  followed  were  busy  ones  for 
Cleo.  First  of  all  she  must  gain  entrance  to 
DeWitte 's  studio,  spying  on  Eleanor  during  the 
sittings.  This  was  her  plan:  Under  pretext 
of  shopping,  she  left  the  house  and  knowing 
that  DeWitte  would  never  recognize  her  as 
Mrs.  Manning's  maid,  applied  to  him  as  a 
model. 

In  this  way  she  gained  the  knowledge 
of  how  to  reach  his  rooms.  Once  within  the 
outer  studio,  Cleo's  quick  eyes  detected  many 


86  THE  JUDGMENT 

good  hiding-places  where  she  could  watch  them 
unseen  during  the  few  remaining  sittings.  The 
picture  was  nearly  finished,  and  Cleo  knew  that 
she  must  hasten  if  she  hoped  to  earn  the  large 
reward  Maude  promised  her. 

Soon  after  Eleanor  left  the  house,  Cleo  fol- 
lowed her,  and  once  out  of  sight  of  the  house, 
called  a  cab,  driving  nearly  to  DeWitte's  door. 
There  she  had  no  trouble,  but  telling  the  foot- 
man, "I  am  ze  model,  and  M'sieur  expects  me,'7 
walked  in  unchallenged. 

DeWitte's  rooms  were  not  the  usual  bare- 
looking  ones  of  artists.  In  the  first  room, 
costly  and  exquisite  hangings  decorated  the 
openings,  rare  tapestries  and  rarer  paintings 
mingled  with  old  armor  and  weapons  in  a 
strangely  beautiful  effect. 

Behind  the  drawn  portieres,  hanging  at  the 
door  of  the  inner  studio,  Cleo  concealed  her- 
self. Her  cat-like  step  was  silent,  and  her  soft 
dress  made  no  sound.  The  curtains  were  long 
and  loose,  and  among  their  generous  folds  she 
found  it  easy  to  hide. 

Eleanor  was  sitting  in  the  cold  blue  north 
light,  that  fell  from  the  glass  ceiling.  DeWitte 
was  at  his  easel,  and  on  his  handsome  face,  the 
fire  of  genius  fought  in  deadly  conflict  with  the 
counter  fire  of  human  love,  human  passion  and 
desire. 


THE  JUDGMENT  87 

Cleo  had  not  waited  long  before  she  knew 
that  if  it  rested  on  the  man  alone,  she  would 
gain  the  reward. 

Suddenly  he  cried  out:  "I  can  never  do  it, 
I  cannot.  Oh !  tell  me,  tell  me  why  you  change 
so.  As  I  look  at  you  now,  I  never  want  you  to 
change,  but  while  I  look,  I  seem  to  see  further 
and  another  being  meets  my  eyes.  You  change 
to  me  at  every  look.  I  cannot  paint  you.  I 
have  your  hair,  your  form,  your  dress.  The 
face  on  my  canvas  is  the  lovely  one  before  me, 
but  Oh,  my  God!  the  eyes — your  eyes,  woman— 
I  cannot  paint  your  eyes.  They  haunt  me  night 
and  day.  They  glorify  the  night,  and  shine  be- 
fore me  like  two  brilliant  stars,  but  when  I  look 
at  their  reality,  my  colors  pale,  my  brush  stif- 
fens, my  hand  is  numb,  and  my  soul  falls  back 
in  despair—"  His  voice  sank  almost  to  a 
whisper  at  the  last  words,  and  he  hurriedly 
passed  his  handkerchief  over  his  moist  fore- 
head. His  pale  lips  were  trembling,  and  he 
could  not  control  his  voice. 

Eleanor  rose  from  her  seat  and  advanced 
toward  the  door:  "Let  me  go  now,"  she  said, 
"you  are  working  too  hard.  Rest  to-day  and 
to-morrow,  it  will  all  come  right,"  and  she  soon 
was  gone. 

He  did  not  accompany  her  to  the  waiting  car- 
riage, but  as  she  left,  he  walked  as  if  he  still 


88  THE  JUDGMENT 

saw  her,  toward  the  chair  where  she  had  sat, 
then  back  again  to  his  canvas. 

Silently,  he  gazed  for  a  moment,  then  groaned 
aloud,  "Oh,  God,  I  love  her!  This  is  the 
woman!  Give  her  to  me.  All  I  ask;  this 
woman,"  and  overmastered  by  emotion,  he 
leaned  against  the  easel,  misery  stamped  on  his 
face ;  the  cruel  misery  of  a  hopeless  love.  Soon 
into  his  face  the  watching  woman  saw  a  strange 
look  creep.  His  eyes  grew  more  intense,  till 
they  were  set  in  their  deep,  faraway  gaze.  ' '  As 
I  want  her  to  look,"  he  whispered  in  a  strained, 
tense  tone,  and  snatching  a  brush,  began  again 
with  tender  strokes  upon  the  canvas. 

Cleo  crept  out  of  the  folds  of  the  curtains 
with  a  happy  face:  "It  vill  be  for  me,"  she 
congratulated  herself. 

Manning  had  been  peculiarly  disagreeable  of 
late,  and  Eleanor  had  felt  the  insult  of  his  in- 
sinuating remarks.  Not  once  he  spared  her, 
and  Maude's  malicious  eyes  gleamed  with  satis- 
faction as  she  heard  him.  He  persistently 
threw  her  into  the  society  of  other  men,  but  did 
not  disguise  his  suspicious  watchfulness. 

Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  came  often  to  the  house, 
and  in  ostentatious  display  exhibited  the  pe- 
culiar influence,  which  she  seemed  to  have  re- 
gained over  him.  Eleanor's  position  was  more 
and  more  unbearable.  Manning's  attentive- 


THE  JUDGMENT  89 

ness  had  faded  as  the  months  passed  by  and 
there  appeared  no  promise  of  an  heir,  and  she 
realized  that  her  hold  upon  him,  which  at  best 
was  hut  that  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  coupled 
with  his  desire  for  a  son  to  inherit  his  wealth 
and  perpetuate  his  name,  was  on  the  wane. 

The  thought  was  constantly  with  him,  and 
when  alone  with  her,  his  petulant  reiteration  of 
his  disappointment  made  her  more  than  ever 
hate  and  despise  him. 

In  this  frame  of  mind,  it  was  easy  for  Maude 
to  work  upon  his  evil  nature,  and  poison  his 
mind  against  Eleanor,  who  he  declared  was 
spitefully  refusing  him  the  boon  he  craved. 

Maude  had  been  readily  persuaded  by  the  un- 
scrupulous French  girl  that  it  would'  be  pos- 
sible to  surprise  Eleanor  in  a  compromising  at- 
titude with  DeWitte,  for  jealousy  ever  lends  a 
willing  ear  to  suspicious  doubt;  accepting  as 
true,  insinuations  which  reason  and  sanity 
should  stamp  as  false;  and  after  Cleo's  vivid 
description  of  DeWitte 's  passionate  absorption 
in  the  painting,  and  his  evident  admiration  for 
his  beautiful  model,  Maude  was  willing  and 
eager  to  convince  her  brother  that  all  that  was 
lacking  as  proof  of  Eleanor's  defection  was  to 
be  unseen  watchers  of  an  interview  between 
them,  while  DeWitte  was  painting  her  portrait. 

There  did  not  thrive  in  the  Manning  family 


90  THE  JUDGMENT 

the  idea  of  honor  first;  expediency  after;  and 
Manning  decided  that  the  end  would  justify 
him  in  adopting  any  chosen  means.  He  there- 
fore agreed  to  follow  Eleanor  to  DeWitte's 
studio,  and  with  Maude 's  heh)  detect  her  in  the 
suspected  guilty  love. 

Maude's  hlack  eyes  burned  fiercely,  and  her 
face  was  frightful  in  its  sallow  pallor  when  they 
entered  DeWitte's  door.  Fortunately  this  was 
hidden  under  her  veil,  but  Manning  had  no  such 
convenient  mask,  and  his  sinister  look  would 
have  excited  suspicion  if  Cleo  had  not  paved 
the  way.  Her  smiles  and  her  ingratiating  re- 
wards had  already  secured  for  her  plans,  en- 
tire safety  for  the  eavesdroppers.  Pretending 
to  believe  in  the  clumsy  excuse  of  an  engage- 
ment, DeWitte's  servant  let  them  in,  and  they 
were  soon  advantageously  secreted  by  Cleo. 

From  the  folds  of  the  heavy  portieres  they 
could  see  almost  the  entire  interior  of  the  stu- 
dio, where  DeWitte  painted.  The  room  was 
more  vacant  than  the  first  and  larger  one,  but 
no  bareness  was  shown.  The  artist's  love  for 
beauty  was  displayed  in  the  colors  of  the  pol- 
ished woods,  the  subdued  tone  of  the  few  hang- 
ings and  the  burnished  glow  of  the  heavy  cop- 
per boxes  that  held  his  painter's  paraphernalia. 
Even  his  easels  were  massive  and  handsomely 
carved. 


THE  JUDGMENT  91 

Eleanor  had  not  arrived,  and  the  delay  of  her 
coming  seemed  endless. 

DeWitte  was  in  the  studio,  and  in  evident 
eager  expectancy.  He  paced  back  and  forth 
like  a  restless  prisoner.  At  the  slightest  sound 
his  face  brightened,  his  breath  quickened,  and 
alive  in  every  fibre  he  awaited  the  fulfillment 
of  his  expectancy.  To  Manning,  watching  him, 
came  the  suspicion:  "Has  his  man  betrayed  us? 
He  is  so  restless.  Does  he  know?"  till  reas- 
sured by  the  apparent  absence  of  suspicion  in 
the  man  he  watched,  he  whispered:  "No,  he 
does  not  know,  or  he  would  be  more  careful. 
He  shows  too  great  interest." 

At  last  footsteps  approached,  and  two  women 
entered,  Eleanor  and  her  mother.  Over  De- 
Witte's  face  a  shadow  passed.  He  had  hoped 
that  Eleanor  would  come  alone,  but  he  came 
forward,  and  in  conventional  greetings  bade 
them  welcome. 

' '  Eleanor  tells  me  that  the  painting  is  nearly 
done,  Mr.  DeWitte,"  and  Mrs.  Howard  turned 
expectantly  toward  the  covered  easel. 

"Yes,  just  one  more  sitting,"  he  answered, 
but  he  made  no  motion  to  remove  the  cover  and 
show  the  picture. 

Mrs.  Howard  did  not  enjoy  waiting  during 
the  quiet  sittings  and  she  suddenly  remembered 
that  she  could  attend  to  some  shopping  and  re- 


92  THE  JUDGMENT 

turn  within  an  hour.  Soon  DeWitte  was  alone 
with  Eleanor.  "Shall  we  commence  now?" 
she  queried,  in  unconscious  haste  at  something 
in  his  face  that  lately  had  not  always  heen  well 
covered  or  disguised. 

"No  need  to.  It  is  finished,"  he  answered 
her,  and  stepped  to  the  easel,  laying  his  hand 
upon  the  cover.  She  interrupted  him—  "Then 
why  did  you  not  tell  my  mother  1 ' ' 

"Because  I  must  have  you  see  it  first  of  all. 
I  may  as  well  tell  you,"  and  the  words  came 
fast,  "but  first  look,  then  tell  me  if  the  picture 
is  true;"  and  he  snatched  off  the  long  cover, 
and  laid  bare  the  portrait. 

She  was  painted  in  white.  The  dress  was 
soft  and  filmy  and  clinging,  and  seemed  to  serve 
but  to  drape  the  slender  young  figure.  One 
tapering  arm  hung  in  unconscious  repose  by 
her  side.  The  other  was  slightly  raised,  as  if 
in  hesitant  expectancy.  The  soft  tones  of  the 
painted  figure  were  marvelous.  They  made 
the  painting  seem  alive.  The  head  was  slightly 
bent  forward,  the  curling  bronze-tinted  hair 
piled  in  exquisite  half  disarray.  The  tints  of 
the  face  were  wonderfully  lovely,  the  blue  veins 
in  the  temple  showed  through  the  white  skin, 
where  it  deepened  into  pink  and  creamy  tones 
in  the  cheeks  and  to  scarlet  in  the  softly  curv- 
ing mouth,  then  paled  again  to  purest  white  in 


THE  JUDGMENT  93 

the  neck  and  lovely  rounded  shoulders.  But 
the  art  of  the  portrait  lay  in  the  eyes,  which  for 
so  long  had  baffled  him.  They  were  Eleanor's 
large,  dark  brown  eyes,  but  as  you  looked  at 
them,  they  changed  until  they  were  not  Elea- 
nor 's  eyes.  They  were  still  large,  and  dark  and 
brown,  but  Eleanor's  eyes  held  in  them  no  hint 
of  gladness.  They  were  not  cruel,  but  they 
were  cold;  they  were  not  heartless,  but  they 
were  sometimes  hurt ;  they  were  not  sorrowful, 
but  they  were  often  sad. 

The  eyes  in  the  portrait  were  glad,  they  were 
sweet,  they  were  young,  they  were  happy,  they 
were  alluring,  they  seemed  to  say:  "Enjoy  life 
with  me.  Come!  Come!  life  is  lovely;  life  is 
sweet;  I  feel  it;  I  thrill  with  the  joy  of  it;  I 
love!" 

DeWitte  did  not  say  a  word,  nor  did  Eleanor, 
but  the  man's  breath  was  coming  fast,  his  face 
was  pale,  his  hand  was  tightly  closed,  and  his 
eyes  were  fixed  on  Eleanor's  face  in  eager  in- 
quiry, as  if  he  sought  to  read  her  soul. 

Still  Eleanor  did  not  speak,  but  gazing  at  the 
picture,  a  deeply  troubled  look  came  to  her  face, 
and  she  ended  the  long  silence  with  a  long 
breath,  half  sob,  half  sigh. 

"Tell  me,"  DeWitte  whispered,  and  even 
then  his  voice  trembled. 

"I  can't  explain,"  she  answered,  and  turned 


94  THE  JUDGMENT 

to  look  again.  "What  have  you  done  to  it? 
It  was  like  me  yesterday,  but  not  to-day.  Oh ! 
you  have  made  it  hurt  me."  Her  voice  was 
full  of  pain.  "You  make  it  haunt  me  with 
what  I  might  have  felt.  Take  that  look  out  of 
the  eyes,  if  the  picture  is  of  me.  Take  it  out ! 
I  cannot  look  at  it !"  and  all  her  training  in  self- 
control  deserted  her.  She  turned  away,  the 
scalding  tears  came  slowly  through  her  fingers, 
pressed  tight  over  her  eyes. 

DeWitte,  at  her  side,  tried  to  loosen  the  pro- 
tecting hands;  his  voice  came  back,  and  his 
words  poured  forth  strong  and  fervent: 
"Dear  one,  do  not  grieve,  do  not  despair;  you 
can  feel  that  way;  you  shall.  It  is  a  lie,  this 
life  of  yours.  Your  true  life  is  another,  far, 
far  different.  Look  up,  and  let  me  show  you  in 
my  heart  the  love,  no,  the  worship  there  for 
you.  All  this  time  I  have  loved  you,  idolized 
you,  lived  only  in  your  sight.  Outside  is  night ; 
my  cruelest  despair.  Look,  Eleanor,  see,  read 
my  heart.  There  is  nothing  in  it  a  pure  woman 
like  you  need  blush  to  see.  I  love  you,  yes,  I 
want  you,  yes.  God  only  knows  how  much — 
Vut  honestly — thank  God.  I  want  your  love  to 
open  Heaven's  gates,  by  just  one  word— say  it 
— dear  God,  make  her  say  it! — Leave  this  life 
of  yours.  It  is  a  sacrilege ;  this  daily  torment. 
Everybody  knows  it ;  everybody  sees  it.  Leave 


THE  JUDGMENT  95 

it,  it  is  but  honest  to  do  so.  Leave  it,  and  let 
me  give  you  another  and  a  better.  Oh,  Eleanor ! 
— Eleanor!— 7  love,  I  love  you  so — "  His 
voice  broke  and  ceased,  for  on  Eleanor's  face 
was  depicted  surprise,  scorn  and  outraged  in- 
dignation. 

He  tried  to  speak  again — "Don't,  don't, 
Eleanor — "  but  she  lifted  an  imperious  hand, 
and  waved  him  back. 

"Wait!  If  you  have  finished,  listen  to  me. 
As  you  say,  it  is  true  that  my  life  is  a  lie,  a 
daily  torment.  You  remind  me  that  I  am  bound 
to  a  man  I  must  despise— yes — but  are  you  bet- 
ter? I  came  among  you  not  two  years  ago,  an 
ignorant  unformed  child,  and  what  have  I  seen  ? 
Duplicity,  deceit  and  outraged  decency  every- 
where. There  is  no  honor — there  is  no  truth 
— there  is  no  goodness.  You  are  all  the  same. 
Because  I  despise  him,  shall  I  love  you?  I  do 
not  believe  in  your  love.  You  do  not  know 
what  love  is.  If  you  loved  me,  you  would  pity 
my  ruined  life,  and  would  have  been  my  friend 
—instead,  you  have  leagued  yourself  with  them 
to  insult  me.  Never  speak  to  me  again.  Let 
me  pass." 

"Oh,  God,  Eleanor,  don't  go  like  this;  be- 
lieve me — oh!  believe  me.  I  swear  I  mean  no 
no  harm.  Think — is  it  more  decent  to  live  with 
him  as  you  do,  because  of  the  publicity  of  the 


96  THE  JUDGMENT 

divorce  you  could  so  readily  gain?  Think  of 
Mrs.  Van  Buskirk— think  of  that  horrible 
Maude  Manning.  They  will  triumph  over  you 
yet,  I  warn  you,  it  will  come ;  they  will  triumph. 
Then  leave  it  now  before  they  do.  You  do  not 
know,  child,  you  cannot  fathom  their  meanness, 
their  deep  duplicity  and  underhand  knife 
thrusts.  Maude  Manning  is  a  devil  in  woman's 
form,  and  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  a  shameless 
woman.  Be  warned,  I  beg — I  can  make  you  so 
happy — I  will— I  will — " 

"I  will  not  listen;  let  me  go.  Let  them  tri- 
umph. Friendless  I  came — friendless  I  can  re- 
main. Let  me  go."  She  moved  again  toward 
the  door,  and  with  a  sweep  of  her  arm  threw 
aside  the  portiere. 

DeWitte  sprang  forward,  and  tried  to  bar  the 
way,  begging:  "Tell  me  you  do  not  hate  me." 

"But  I  do,  I  hate,  I  despise  you  all  I"  and  im- 
periously she  motioned  him  aside. 

As  the  curtains  swept  back,  a  man's  small 
shining  foot  was  visible.  Eleanor  saw  it,  and 
turning,  pointed.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  De- 
Witte's  face,  and  in  scornful  tones,  still  point- 
ing toward  the  curtain,  inquired:  "May  I  ask 
if  you  have  provided  yourself  with  an  invisible 
witness  to  this  interview,  in  which  you  so  elo- 
quently plead  in  honor's  cause?" 

DeWitte  could  not  speak.    The  scorn  in  her 


THE  JUDGMENT  97 

tones  cut  him  like  a  whip.  He  snatched  back 
the  curtain  to  disclose  the  hiders,  just  as  Maude 
and  Manning  stepped  out  on  the  other  side. 

"We  came  for  Eleanor,  and  hearing  voices 
waited  a  moment.  We  have  just  come  in,"  but 
Maude's  pale  face,  burning  eyes  and  her  rage- 
shaken  voice  belied  the  words. 

DeWitte  made  no  reply,  but  his  look  was 
eloquent  of  his  contempt.  It  fell  on  Maude 
with  all  its  force,  and  made  her  writhe. 

Then  Eleanor  spoke,  and  her  voice  had  re- 
gained its  calm:  "One  might  have  known  it 
was  you  two."  Her  eyes  traveled  over  them 
an  instant,  then  she  turned.  "I  think  I  will  go. 
Doubtless  you  three  may  like  to  talk  this  over ; 
good  by,"  and  her  laugh  rang  out,  cold,  mirth- 
less and  insulting. 

At  the  sound,  DeWitte 's  face  quivered  with 
pain,  and  passing  the  others,  he  too  left  the 
room. 

Manning  turned,  and  in  a  savage  snarling 
voice,  began:  "What  in  hell  did  you  bring  me 
here  for  I  You  are  as  big  a  fool  as  that  damned 
little  French  devil,  and  between  you  two,  you 
have  gotten  me  into  this." 

"Oh,  William  1"  Maude  sobbed,  unable  longer 
to  control  her  tears. 

''Shut  your  mouth,  and  learn  to  keep  quiet. 
Every  time  you  speak,  you  make  a  fool  of  your- 


98  THE  JUDGMENT 

self.  You  have  acted  like  an  infernal  idiot  to 
make  me  come  here  with  you.  I  only  came  to 
please  you.  I  hope  you  got  a  great  deal  of 
satisfaction  from  hearing  DeWitte 's  opinion 
of  you.  Doesn't  he  love  you!  Ha!  Ha! 
Perhaps  you  will  still  want  to  run  him  down. 
Well,  you  are  welcome  to,  but  you  will  have  to 
do  it  without  me  hereafter,"  and  Manning 
grabbed  his  hat  and  made  for  the  door. 

"Don't  leave  me  here,  brother  William," 
Maude  implored,  her  face  quivering  with  an 
agony  of  mortification  and  fear  that  she  might 
again  meet  DeWitte,  "He  might  come  back." 

"You  are  safe  from  him.  Don't  be  afraid. 
Ha!  Ha!  Ha!"  his  face  was  purple,  his  hands 
were  trembling  and  cold,  and  his  heart  was  on 
fire  with  rage,  at  the  memory  of  Eleanor's 
plain  description  of  her  feelings  for  him.  "I'll 
make  her  rue  this  day,  the  damned  cold-hearted 
saint,"  he  snarled. 

When  Maude  found  herself  alone,  she  looked 
round  her  in  furtive  dread  of  DeWitte 's  re- 
turn. "Oh,  let  me  get  out,"  she  whispered,  as 
she  stole  through  the  hall.  Her  form  was 
trembling  and  shaking  with  sobs.  As  she 
walked  out,  the  footman  smiled  with  open  im- 
pudence. She  saw  it,  and  thrilled  with  anger 
in  the  midst  of  her  shame. 


CHAPTER   VI 

DURING  the  days  that  followed,  there  was  little 
peace  in  the  Manning  household.  Maude's 
mortification  changed  to  fierce  resentment,  and 
she  redoubled  her  energies  to  render  Eleanor's 
life  unbearable. 

Mrs.  Howard  had  heard  from  Manning  a 
highly  colored  version  of  the  scene  in  the  studio. 
"You  should  have  been  more  discreet  than  to 
allow  Mr.  DeWitte  to  speak  so  openly,"  she 
complained  to  Eleanor.  "It  will  simply  ruin 
us  if  you  are  not  more  careful.  'William  inti- 
mated that  he  is  thinking  of  a  divorce.  Just 
think  how  awful !  It  would  kill  me.  How  can 
you  so  harass  me  with  this  constant  uneasiness 
about  our  future.  If  I  had  to  go  back  now  to 
the  misery  I  suffered  before  your  marriage,  I 
should  die.  As  your  father  lay  dying  you 
promised  him  to  look  after  me,  and  this  is  how 
you  do  it.  You  make  my  life  a  constant  dread 
of  evil.  There  is  nothing  William  refuses  you. 
Poor  William!  You  nearly  drive  him  crazy 
with  your  indifference.  He  is  beginning  to  be 
suspicious  of  other  men,  and  you  have  only 
yourself  to  blame.  If  you  would  only  be  a  little 

99 


100  THE  JUDGMENT 

more  womanly.  Oh,  Lord !  why  should  I  have 
such  a  heartless  child?"  and  Mrs.  Howard 
sought  relief  in  a  deluge  of  tears. 

"More  womanly!  Am  I  unwomanly  because 
my  heart  shrinks  with  disgust  at  the  deceit  and 
selfishness  around  me  ?  Am  I  inhuman,  because 
I  hate  where  I  am  hated,  and  despise  where  I 
meet  insult?  If  so,  let  me  be  inhuman  to  the 
end.  It  is  my  only  joy,  this  hate  I  feel.  A 
divorce  would  be  happiness,  a  glad  release  from 
the  bondage,  which  has  degraded  and  insulted 
me  from  the  first.  Yes,  I  promised  my  father 
to  care  for  you,  and  I  have,  I  will.  I  will  work, 
I  will  slave,  I  will  struggle  that  you  shall  have 
your  luxuries ;  but  do  not  ask  me  to  endure  this 
horrid  life.  Let  us  give  them  their  divorce. 
Let  us  go  to  ourselves  and  have  our  existence, 
untainted  of  them.  Oh,  mother!  mother!  be 
my  friend— just  this  once,  I  beg.  Grant  me 
this,  I  have  so  little.  Think  of  Daddy,  and  let 
him  plead  for  me.  Let  us  go  away — mother." 

Eleanor  sank  to  her  knees  beside  her  mother, 
the  tears  streaming  down  her  face,  and  clasped 
her  mother's  hands ;  only  to  be  shaken  off  petu- 
lantly, as  Mrs.  Howard  cried  out:  "You  are  in- 
sane, girl;  give  up  now  that  we  have  secured 
all  this?  No,  you  shall  not,  you  do  not  know 
what  you  say;  you  are  wild  to  think  of  it. 
Here  we  are  and  here  we  will  remain.  You 


THE  JUDGMENT  101 

will  learn  in  time  that  I  am  right  and  will  thank 
me  for  refusing  to  listen  to  ravings.  Get  up; 
dry  your  eyes;  end  this  silly  talk;  treat  your 
husband  as  you  should;  he  can  take  everything 
away  from  us.  Do  as  he  tells  you,  and  all  will 
be  well." 

Eleanor  rose  and  faced  her  mother.  All  the 
pleading  left  her  face;  all  the  softness,  all  the 
youth.  "Eleanor,  these  scenes  must  stop. 
You  must  learn  to  curb  yourself.  Be  a  woman, 
not  a  silly  child.  Eespect  me,  and  change  your 
course,  and  you  will  thank  me  in  the  years  to 
come." 

For  a  minute  Eleanor 's  eyes  searched  her 
mother's  face,  then  she  laughed  harshly  and 
coldly.  "Then  let  me  begin  to  learn.  Let  me 
be  like  others,  and  when  you  see  the  woman  you 
make  of  me,  may  you  be  proud  of  your  work. 
From  this  day,  from  this  hour,  I  will  learn.  I 
will  be  as  the  rest.  I  will  meet  their  insults 
and  insinuating  thrusts ;  they  shall  feel  my  cold 
steel  in  return.  I  will  meet  the  men  and  women 
who  throng  this  house  from  now  on  with  a 
smiling  face.  If  my  heart  is  stifled  by  a  weight 
of  pain,  my  face  shall  smile.  If  I  am  again  '  in- 
human, unwomanly,'  it  shall  be  in  secret.  In 
my  heart  shall  lie  my  sorrow,  since  to  you  it  is 
only  a  complaint  of  silly  childhood.  Best  as- 
sured, mother,  to  you  I  shall  complain  no  more." 


102  THE  JUDGMENT 

As  Eleanor  went  out,  her  mother's  eyes  fol- 
lowed her  in  inquiry;  "She  looks  so  strange," 
she  murmured,  "I  wonder  if  she  really  meant 
it.  She  is  too  impetuous.  I  must  keep  her 
under.  It  is  insane  to  think  of  leaving  him. 
I  simply  could  not  do  it.  She  must  be  crazy 
to  imagine  I  would.  She  must  stay." 

Maude  had  showed  embarrassment  under 
Eleanor's  gaze  at  their  first  meeting,  but  hate 
had  steeled  her  heart,  and  she  returned  a  look 
of  sullen  dislike  to  Eleanor's  sarcastic  smile, 
as  she  took  her  seat  at  the  table.  It  was  Man- 
ning's first  meeting  after  the  scene  at  the  stu- 
dio, and  his  face  purpled  at  the  remembrance 
of  her  words.  Eleanor  had  learned  the  lesson. 
Her  pose  was  defiant.  Her  face  seemed  to  say : 
"At  last  I  know  you.  Keep  your  distance,  but 
feel  my  scorn,  my  contempt  and  my  hatred." 

Under  Eleanor's  eyes  Manning's  temper 
grew  worse.  Finally  he  burst  out:  "Are  you 
all  struck  dumb?  Can  none  of  you  say  any- 
thing?" As  he  spoke,  he  cast  an  angry  look  at 
his  wife. 

Slowly  she  turned  her  eyes  to  his, 
and  with  a  strange  smile,  answered:  "If  I 
thought  it  worth  while,  I  could  say  many 
things."  Manning's  face  flushed,  and  he 
snarled:  "These  infernal  airs  of  superiority 
that  you  are  so  fond  of  assuming  do  not  add 


THE  JUDGMENT  103 

much  to  your  attractiveness,  I  can  tell  you." 
Eleanor  shrugged  her  shoulders  for  reply. 

Emboldened  by  her  brother's  ill-natured  re- 
marks, Eva  turned  to  Eleanor.  "  Are  you  sick? 
Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  said  the  other  day  that  you 
looked  half  dead." 

"No,  I  am  not  sick,  thank  you;  my  health  is 
good.  Perhaps  my  imperfections  are  more 
visible  to  some  eyes  than  to  others,"  smiling 
straight  into  Eva's  spiteful  face. 

Maude  came  to  Eva's  rescue:  "I  believe  you 
think  you  are  perfect,  in  every  way,  Eleanor," 
she  sneered. 

Eleanor  did  not  flinch  under  the  concerted 
attack  but  looking  directly  into  Maude's  face, 
answered:  "Oh,  no,  not  perfect.  These  sur- 
roundings would  make  perfection  impossible; 
but  I  consider  myself  as  fairly  respectable  and 
there  are  a  few  things  I  still  refuse  to  do ;  lying, 
slandering,  bribing  and  eavesdropping,  I  leave 
to  others.  My  great  crime  is  that  I  live  in  their 
atmosphere,  and  with  shame  I  plead  guilty  to 
the  charge." 

Maude  was  furious ;  rising,  she  demanded  in 
a  voice  which  shook  with  rage:  "William,  will 
you  allow  this?  Can't  you  protect  us  from 
such  insolence?" 

Manning  looked  at  Eleanor  as  she  sat  toying 
with  her  teaspoon.  Her  face  showed  no  sign 


104  THE  JUDGMENT 

of  temper,  and  she  returned  his  look  as  if  she 
were  totally  indifferent  as  to  what  he  might  do 
or  say.  Angered  at  her  words,  and  feeling 
keenly  their  application  to  himself  as  well  as 
to  his  sisters,  he  would  have  resented  them,  but 
something  in  Eleanor's  face  held  him  back  with 
the  unspoken  thought:  "She  is  right.  She  is 
above  it,  and  if  we  go  too  far,  she  might  make 
trouble." 

"Don't  drag  me  in.  Fight  it  out  among 
yourselves.  You  women  are  like  cats,  anyway ; 
always  at  each  other's  throats." 

Maude  left  the  room,  her  breakfast  almost 
untasted,  and  Eva  followed  her.  Left  alone, 
Manning  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  re- 
prove his  wife.  "I  wish,  Eleanor,  you  would 
try  to  refrain  from  quarrelling  with  the  girls. 
It  does  not  make  them  like  you  any  better,  and 
it  upsets  everything." 

Eleanor  answered  slowly,  "Is  it  quarrelling 
with  them  to  speak  of  decency?  I  had  not  con- 
sidered it  as  strictly  quarrelling." 

He  grew  more  angry.  ' 1  Now  look  here,  I  am 
tired  of  this.  If  I  am  all  you  say,  remember 
it  is  my  money  that  took  you  out  of  poverty; 
but  for  it,  you  would  now  be  working  for  your 
living.  Eemember  this,  and  respect  it,  if  you 
don't  respect  me." 

"Perhaps  you   are  right.    Your  money  is 


THE  JUDGMENT  105 

what  gains  for  you  consideration.  I  must  re- 
member it.  You  and  your  money  are  so  closely 
interwoven  in  my  mind  that  it  is  impossible  to 
forget  either;  but  do  not  ask  me  for  respect, 
which  is  impossible.*' 

Manning 's  voice  quivered  with  rage.  ' { What 
do  you  mean;  how  dare  you  speak  so  to  me; 
you  are  in  my  power.  I  could  throw  you  back 
into  poverty  and  want.  Do  not  go  too  far.  If 
you  are  as  cold  as  ice,  I  am  not.  It  is  my  right 
to  watch  you,  and  I  will,  whenever  it  suits  me, 
if  that  is  what  you  mean.  While  you  are  my 
wife,  I  am  your  master,  and  I  will  control  you 
if  I  have  to  do  so  by  force.  Remember  this — 
you  are  mine.  I  have  bought  you,  paid  for  you. 
The  clothes  you  wear  are  mine.  I  will  do  with 
you  as  I  please.  I  will  force  you  into  obedi- 
ence ;  you  shall  come  under  my  will  if  I  have  to 
beat  you  into  submission,"  and  his  eyes,  blaz- 
ing with  fury,  his  face  purple  with  rage,  his 
hand  upraised  as  if  in  violence,  he  started 
toward  her. 

Eleanor  rose,  waiting  for  his  fury  to  culmi- 
nate. She  spoke  no  word,  made  no  motion,  but 
her  eyes  expressed  more  plainly  than  any  words 
could  do  her  fearless  scorn  and  contempt  for 
the  man  before  her. 

Suddenly  he  stopped:  "You  are  trying  to 
provoke  me.  You  want  me  to  resort  to  vio- 


106  THE  JUDGMENT 

lence,  that  you  may  have  an  excuse  to  leave  me. 
You  shall  not.  Mine  you  are,  and  mine  you 
shall  remain,  but  you  must  not  continue  to  pro- 
voke me." 

When  Eleanor  reached  her  room,  the  stern 
restraint  was  loosened,  and  there  arose  within 
her  a  torrent  of  hate  toward  her  persecutors 
that  shook  her  soul.  Like  fierce  demons  it 
gripped  her  heart,  and  wrung  and  tortured  it. 
Lost  in  the  storm,  despairing  of  escape,  no 
helping  hand  outstretched  to  her,  no  comforting 
voice,  no  consoling  thought,  her  aching  heart 
closed  in  despair,  shutting  out  forever  the 
tender  thoughts  and  gentle  impulses  of  girl- 
hood, making  her  hard,  making  her  cold,  making 
her  disbelieve  in  everything  on  earth,  and  al- 
most in  the  goodness  of  God. 


CHAPTER   VII 

"WILL  you  put  your  trotters  in,  Manning?" 
asked  Dr.  Bryan,  discussing  the  horse  show. 

"Yes,  I  guess  so;  Maude  is  wild  about  it." 

"Who  will  drive?" 

"Either  she  or  I;  she,  if  she  has  her  way." 

"How  about  your  black,  will  you  put  him  in, 
too?" 

"Well — you  know,  I  don't  own  him  now," 
stammered  Manning. 

"No!    I  hadn't  heard.    Who  bought  him?" 

"Mrs.  Van  Buskirk." 

"Manning,  you  didn't  do  that,  did  you? 
How  it  will  set  the  talk  going !  I  '11  bet  my  head 
she  drives  him  just  for  impudence." 

"Well,  I'm  trying  to  get  her  not  to."    . 

"As  well  try  to  keep  the  devil  out  of  mis- 
chief. You  know  she  will.  Why  don't  you 
break  with  her?  You  told  me  when  you  mar- 
ried, that  you  intended  to  live  straight." 

"Well,  now  look  here,  Doctor,  you  don't 
know  Eleanor.  She's  the  devil  to  manage,  and 
to  tell  the  truth,  that's  the  reason  I  came  to  see 
you  to-day.  I'm  getting  awfully  tired  of  this 
kind  of  thing.  I'll  just  tell  you  plainly;  I  want 

107 


108  THE  JUDGMENT 

a  family,  but  Eleanor— well,  I  hardly  know  how 
to  describe  her  conduct.  She  never  says  any- 
thing, and  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  it,  but 
I'm  getting  discouraged,  and  I  want  to  see  if 
you  couldn't  say  or  do  something." 

"I,  say  anything!  What  can  I  say?  It's 
your  fault  if  you  don't  have  children,  not  Elea- 
nor's. It's  your  early  life.  I  told  you  that 
you  ought  not  to  marry." 

"Oh,  such  damned  nonsense  as  that  won't 
go.  I  know  that's  not  so.  It's  Eleanor.  She 
doesn't  want  them.  I've  promised  her  every- 
thing ;  to  send  Maude  and  Eva  away ;  stop  Aunt 
Norton — and  the  Lord  knows  that  ought  to  in- 
fluence her,  for  she  hates  them  like  poison,  and 
they  hate  her  worse — but  never  a  word  or  a 
promise  can  I  get  from  her.  I  thought  if  you 
would  talk  to  her;  tell  her  how  much  easier  it 
would  make  her  life — she  loves  you— you  are 
the  only  one  she  does  love — she  will  go  through 
torment  for  her  mother,  but  there's  no  love 
there ;  just  a  stern  sense  of  duty — but  for  you, 
it's  different— her  face  shows  it  when  you  come 
near  her." 

"Do  you  love  her,  Manning?" 

"Oh,  I  love  her  well  enough.  I  was  crazy 
about  her  at  first,  and  I'm  proud  of  her.  She's 
the  most  beautiful  woman  in  town;  she's  the 
best  dresser,  and  I'm  perfectly  sure  of  her 


THE  JUDGMENT  109 

virtue — in  fact,  I've  seen  it  tested,"  and  Man- 
ning laughed  shortly,  "but  she's  so  damned 
cold.  When  I  talk  to  her,  she  is  ice.  I  tell 
you,  Doctor,  I'd  give  half  I've  got,  if  you  could 
put  some  sense  into  her." 

Manning  was  nervous  and  embarrassed;  he 
walked  up  and  down  the  room  while  talking, 
not  noticing  the  look  with  which  the  old  man 
followed  him.  When  he  stopped  at  last,  anH 
looked  up,  the  old  man  shook  his  head.  "It's 
no  use,  Manning,  it's  no  use,  it's  your  own 
fault,  there  won't  be  any  such  thing  for  you." 

The  horse  show  soon  engaged  the  attention 
of  social  New  York.  Everyone  was  interested, 
either  in  his  own  horses  or  in  those  of  his 
friends. 

Manning  was  a  great  lover  of  horses,  and 
for  several  seasons  his  had  been  prominent  and 
successful  competitors  in  the  horse  shows. 
The  beautiful  black  that  had  won  the  blue  rib- 
bon the  previous  year  was  his  especial  pride. 
Mrs.  Van  Buskirk,  with  all  his  other  acquaint- 
ances, knew  this,  and  she  had  set  her  heart 
upon  possessing  it,  desiring  the  horse  no  more 
than  to  display  her  influence  over  Manning. 
He  had  given  it  to  her,  and  she  had  determined 
to  drive  it  during  the  show.  She  had  lately 
devoted  her  time  to  trying  to  gain  sufficient 


110  THE  JUDGMENT 

control  over  the  tricky  big  black  horse  to  dare 
to  drive  him. 

Beared  in  Manning's  own  stables,  he  was 
docile  under  his  master's  hand,  but  often  un- 
manageable with  strangers. 

Extremely  unwilling  that  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk 
attempt  to  drive,  Manning  begged:  "If  you  are 
determined  to  enter  him,  Louise,  let  your  man 
drive.  I  tell  you  King  is  unsafe  in  your 
hands. " 

"You  are  afraid  of  the  talk,  I  believe,"  she 
answered.  "If  I  can  stand  it,  you  should  be 
able  to." 

"Perhaps  so,  but  I'd  hate  to  see  King  kill  you. 
You  know  the  horse  never  liked  you,  and  it  was 
always  a  mystery  to  me  why  you  should  want 
him.  When  he  was  a  colt,  he  bit  you  as  you 
tried  to  pet  him.  He  is  not  safe  for  you.  I 
will  give  you  any  other  horse  you  choose,  if 
you'll  let  me  have  him  back.  Be  reasonable, 
Louise.  When  you  know  you  can  do  anything 
with  me,  you  might  give  way  to  my  wish  in 
this.  Let  me  have  King,  or  at  least  promise 
not  to  drive  him  next  week." 

"I'd  rather  drive  that  horse  than  all  the 
others  in  your  stable.  Everybody  knows  he  is 
your  best  and  your  pride.  I  simply  must  drive 
him.  I  wouldn't  fail  to  do  it  for  the  world. 
Think  of  the  faces  of  the  spectators!"  and  Mrs. 


THE  JUDGMENT  111 

Van  Buskirk's  voice  thrilled  high  in  amused 
delight. 

"By  George,  Louise,  one  would  think  you  had 
had  enough  said  about  us,  not  to  court  more," 
he  grumbled,  unable  to  share  her  mirth,  but 
she  only  laughed.  Laying  her  soft  white  arm 
around  his  shoulders,  she  rested  her  face 
against  his,  and  asked  in  teasing  seductive 
tones:  "Growing  faint-hearted,  are  you,  dear- 
est? Isn't  it  just  a  little  late?" 

Under  her  spell,  Manning  always  fell,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  he  had  given  his  con- 
sent. As  he  fastened  the  glittering  diamond 
bracelet  round  her  soft,  warm  arm,  he  wa's 
laughing  with  her.  He  had  brought  it  to  buy 
her  off  from  her  declared  plan  of  driving  King 
in  the  trotting  class,  but  before  he  knew  it,  she 
had  persuaded  him  out  of  his  scruples,  as  well 
as  his  bracelet,  and  into  her  own  reckless  dis- 
regard of  consequences. 

Mrs.  Norton  had  not  been  to  the  Manning 
house  for  several  days,  and  when  she  came,  her 
whole  attitude  and  expression  seemed  to  say: 
"As  well  tell  me  what  you've  been  doing.  I'll 
find  it  out  anyway." 

Eva  and  Maude  hastened  toward  her  with 
assurances  of  their  pleasure  at  her  coming. 

"Of  course  you  ought  to  be  glad.  I'm  your 
best  friend,  but  you  don't  appreciate  what  I 


112  THE  JUDGMENT 

do.  Some  day  when  it  is  too  late,  you  will 
find  out  that  I  am  really  the  only  friend  you 
have." 

Maude  asked  if  she  was  going  to  the  horse 
show. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  will  go,  everybody  goes;  besides 
I  have  heard  of  something  I  want  to  see. ' ' 

"I'm  going  to  drive  the  bays,"  Maude 
boasted. 

"Is  that  so;  did  Eleanor  want  to  drive 
them?" 

"No,  I  guess  not,  why?" 

"You  seem  so  pleased,  I  thought  you  must 
have  outwitted  her  in  some  way*" 

"Oh,  no,  she  doesn't  seem  to  care  anything 
about  it.  William  secured  the  best  of  the 
boxes,  but  I  heard  her  say  yesterday  that  she 
did  not  care  whether  she  went  or  not." 

"She'll  go,"  remarked  Eva.  "Madame  La 
Marque  told  me  that  the  clothes  she  had  bought 
for  it  were  perfect  dreams,  and  she  will  go  to 
wear  them,  and  spoil  the  show  for  the  rest  of 
us." 

"William  suggested  to  her  to  drive  or  ride, 
but  she  said  she  didn't  care  to  appear  in  pub- 
lic with  some  others  who  would  drive.  I 
know  she  meant  the  slur  for  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk 
and  me,"  declared  Maude. 


THE  JUDGMENT  113 

11  Where  is  she  this  morning?"  asked  Mrs. 
Norton. 

"Out  somewhere  with  her  mother.  We  are 
never  together  now.  She  treats  us  as  if  we 
were  the  dirt  under  her  feet,  and  Mrs.  Howard 
is  so  entirely  taken  up  with  enjoying  William  's 
money,  that  she  thinks  of  nothing  else." 

"Have  you  a  box,  Aunt  Norton?"  asked  Eva. 

"No,  I  thought  I'd  sit  with  you.  The  good 
boxes  are  so  high,  and  I  wouldn't  have  one  of 
the  back  ones.  I  might  as  well  save  the  money, 
and  make  William  pay  for  my  seat.  He  and 
his  father  have  defrauded  me  of  so  much,  that 
I  can  never  get  even,  but  I'll  save  this  much, 
and  buy  that  set  of  furs  I've  been  wanting  all 
Winter.  You  can  just  tell  him  I  expect  to  sit 
there.  Be  sure  you  tell  him,  Maude." 

"Yes,  Aunt  Norton,"  responded  Maude, 
"I'll  tell  him." 

"Well!"  Eva  said,  when  Mrs.  Norton  had 
gone,  "we  might  have  known  it,  we  have  got 
her  on  our  hands  again.  The  only  redeeming 
feature  is  that  she  will  make  it  hot  for  Eleanor, 
and  that  whining  old  mother  of  hers." 

"But  if  Aunt  Norton  is  in  our  box,  not  a 
man  at  the  show  will  come  about  us.  She  in- 
sults everybody  within  half  a  mile  of  her." 

"Well,  we  must  keep  her  in  a  good  humor, 


114  THE  JUDGMENT 

and  maybe  she  won't  be  so  bad  this  time,"  Eva 
tried  to  encourage  her. 

"But  you  forget  Mr.  DeWitte  will  be  there, 
and  I  should  die  if  Aunt  Norton  said  anything 
to  him  about  what  happened  in  his  studio ;  and 
if  she  gets  a  chance  she  will  do  it  or  die.  I'd 
rather  miss  the  show  than  to  be  in  the  box  with 
her,"  Maude  wailed. 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  horse  show  had  opened,  and  throughout 
the  spacious  arena  at  Madison  Square  Garden, 
an  air  of  festivity  prevailed.  The  boxes  were 
filling  rapidly,  the  chatter  of  the  women,  min- 
gled with  the  men's  deeper  voices  in  that  all- 
pervading  murmur  of  humanity  by  which  we 
know  that  the  moment  of  expectancy  has  ar- 
rived. High  up  among  the  rafters  rang  the 
unrestrained  laughter  of  the  shrill-voiced 
"rooter,"  waiting  for  the  opening  of  the  show. 
The  promenade  was  thronged  with  early  ar- 
rivals, and  the  crowd  constantly  augmented  by 
newcomers,  was  greeting  and  being  greeted  by 
those  already  there.  Across  the  tanbark  hur- 
ried the  anxious  exhibitors,  eager  for  a  last 
word  to  the  pompous  ring  men,  who  strutted 
about  with  grandiloquent  airs  of  importance, 
as  if  conscious  of  personal  responsibility  for 
the  success  of  the  whole  affair. 

Thousands  of  lights  shone  radiantly  across 


THE  JUDGMENT  115 

to  the  other  thousands,  returning  their  bright 
gleam;  lights  were  everywhere;  expectancy 
was  everywhere;  the  past  was  forgotten;  they 
were  living  in  the  present.  The  show  was  on. 

The  judges  came  to  their  stand.  The  boxes 
were  filling.  The  people  already  filled  the 
lesser  seats.  Hundreds  of  diamonds  winked 
back  at  the  sparkling  lights.  Fans  fluttered. 
Smiling  faces  bent  in  salutation  to  friends  in 
nearby  boxes.  The  world  and  his  wife — his 
numerous  wives,  were  there  like  human  butter- 
flies, sporting  in  the  breezes  of  the  summertime 
of  life. 

The  tanbark  cleared,  and  the  master  of  cere- 
monies awaited  the  coming  of  the  high-stepping 
steeds  and  their  higher-living  masters. 

The  Manning  box  was  advantageously  placed, 
nearly  opposite  the  judges'  stand.  It  was 
large  and  spacious,  but  there  were  few  vacant 
chairs. 

Mrs.  Norton  was  gowned  in  soft  lustrous 
black  velvet.  The  heavy  folds  hung  round 
her  like  her  own  dark  thoughts.  Across  her 
chair  lay  the  exquisite  furs  purchased  through 
her  economical  forethought  regarding  the  box. 
She  sat  in  upright  acidity  beside  her  patient 
husband.  His  fat  face,  though  not  carefree, 
wore  the  meek  expression  of  the  habitual  peace- 
maker. Afraid  to  smile  openly,  for  fear  of  be- 


116  THE  JUDGMENT 

ing  misunderstood,  he  cast  furtively  deprecat- 
ing glances  at  his  wife's  alert  face  and  bright 
darting  eyes,  searching  for  a  convenient  victim. 
Mrs.  Gordon-Leigh  and  her  daughter,  Mildred, 
sat  beside  them,  chatting  with  the  old  man,  who 
would  have  enjoyed  their  gay  talk  but  for  the 
dread  of  his  wife's  criticism.  "Just  so,  just 
so,  he!  he!  he!"  he  chuckled,  responsive  to  Mil- 
dred's remark  that  the  horses  would  soon  come 
on.  His  wife  turned:  " What's  so  funny  about 
that,  John?"  she  demanded.  "A-h,  nothing, 
my  dear,  I  was  only  thinking  how  nice,  er— 
that  it — did  not  snow,"  his  face  straightening 
like  a  small  boy  detected  in  a  forbidden  joy. 
As  Mildred  giggled,  the  old  man  cast  at  her  a 
pleading  look. 

Dr.  Bryan  sat  by  Eleanor;  her  mother  on 
her  other  side.  Manning's  chair  was  vacant. 
He  was  below  with  his  horses.  Eva  sat  at 
Mrs.  Gordon-Leigh's  side;  her  face  painstak- 
ingly enameled,  and  if  her  nose  was  more  rosy 
than  when  she  left  the  hands  of  the  expert  mas- 
seuse, she  was  not  yet  aware  of  it. 

No  living  woman  was  ever  absolutely  uncon- 
scious of  her  own  beauty,  though  she  may  pos- 
sess the  great  charm  of  seeming  to  be,  and 
Eleanor  noted  the  stir  her  appearance  created ; 
the  craning  of  necks  and  the  half  audible  re- 
marks on  every  side. 


THE  JUDGMENT  117 

In  Mrs.  Overtoil's  box,  immediately  to  the 
left  of  Manning's,  was  a  large  party  of  her 
friends.  They  were  laughing  gaily  as  the  Man- 
ning party  came  in.  Beyond  the  Overton  box, 
Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  held  her  court  with  two  wo- 
men, who  served  as  good  foils  to  her  striking 
brunette  beauty.  She  made  a  glittering  spot, 
visible  throughout  the  crowded  space.  Her 
dress  was  black,  but  so  far  from  somber  that 
one  lost  sight  of  the  dark  hue  in  the  sparkling 
brightness  of  the  whole.  She  was  like  a  scintil- 
lating black  diamond,  from  her  throat  to  her 
trailing  skirt.  Her  lace  robe,  a  glittering 
spangle  of  jet;  at  each  turn  of  her  lithe  body 
the  facets  shone  brightly;  even  her  steady 
breathing,  gently  moving  the  soft  lace  above  her 
breast,  made  an  ever  moving  radiance,  until 
the  eye  was  dazzled.  Her  black  hair  was  sur- 
mounted by  an  immense  picture  hat  of  black 
lace  and  long,  loose  plumes  that  reached  back, 
and  swept  her  shoulders.  "An  exquisite  pic- 
ture in  an  ebony  frame,"  remarked  Bobby  Van 
Arsdale,  as  she  took  her  seat  beside  him. 

With  the  three  women  sat  seventeen  men; 
young,  middle-aged  and  old,  but  to-night  there 
was,  strange  to  say,  among  them  no  married 
ones,  for  few  men  dared  attend  the  horse  show 
with  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk,  if  their  wives  were 
there  to  see. 


118  THE  JUDGMENT 

Van  Arsdale  leaned  across  to  William  Ellis, 
sitting  a  little  behind  him:  "Nice  of  Manning 
to  get  this  box  for  us,  wasn't  it?" 

"Yes,  he's  growing  sporty  again.  He  has 
nine  horses  on  the  tanbark,  and  I  don't  know 
how  many  thousand  dollars  in  boxes.  Have 
you  seen  his  wife?  She's  a  beauty,  and  can't 
she  hold  her  head.  She's  a  wonder  all  right." 

"You  bet  she  is,"  answered  Bobby,  "and 
perfectly  straight,  too." 

"Oh,  yes,  too  straight.  Lots  of  us  wish  she 
wasn't,"  laughed  Ellis. 

Soon  the  eager  cry  was  heard:  "They  are 
coming,  look,  look,  oh,  look ! ' '  and  up  above,  the 
loud  voiced  rooters  made  audible  their  admi- 
ration. 

"Gee,  see  the  black!  Oh,  the  bay's  the  win- 
ner! See  how  she  steps.  Ain't  she  a  bird!" 

Leaning  from  the  boxes  they  watched;  con- 
versation languished,  eyes  were  more  alive,  for 
interest  in  the  horses  was  awake. 

In  they  came,  amid  a  burst  of  music  from  the 
hidden  band  that  until  now  had  sent  forth  sub- 
dued strains.  The  horses  pranced  round  the 
ring,  their  arched  necks  and  daintily  lifted  feet 
indicating  their  high  breeding. 

Round  and  round  they  went,  their  nostrils 
dilating,  their  tossing  heads  held  proudly,  while 
every  now  and  then  a  triumphant  neigh  pro- 


THE  JUDGMENT  119 

claimed  the  self-esteem  of  some  equine  aristo- 
crat. 

Women  leaned  from  their  boxes,  and  clapped 
their  white  gloved  hands  in  praise  of  favorites 
capering  below. 

"Watch  the  Sloan  bay.  He's  a  sure  win- 
ner." Bobby  tapped  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  famil- 
iarly on  the  arm. 

"I  don't  believe  it.  I  am  betting  on  the 
chestnut  sorrel." 

"Ha !  ha !  you  may  choose  men,  but  you  can't 
choose  horses,"  teased  Bobby.  "Save  your 
money  to  back  a  better  one." 

"Well,  I'll  wager  a  hundred  that  my  black 
wins  the  blue  ribbon  when  his  class  is  called." 

"Your  black!    Oh,  now,  since  when?" 

"Well,  never  mind  the  when,  the  where  or 
why,"  she  laughed,  "he's  mine  now,  all  right, 
and  you'll  see  his  proud  head  crowned  with 
the  blue  when  the  judges  call  the  award." 

"Damned  bold  about  it,"  Ellis  whispered. 

Then  came  the  hackneys.  Like  clockwork 
one  class  followed  the  other.  Scarcely  had  the 
horses  reached  the  gate,  before  the  next  class 
came  thronging  in. 

In  the  tandem  event  Maude  Manning  drove 
superbly  round  the  arena  a  handsome  pair  of 
bays.  Out  of  eleven  entries  in  this  class,  the 
Manning  pair  easily  ranked  first,  and  the  tro- 


120  THE  JUDGMENT 

phy  was  hers.  As  she  sat  erect  in  her  seat,  her 
tailor-made  gown  displayed  her  good  points, 
disguised  her  poor  ones,  and  made  her  almost 
handsome.  Her  eyes  flashed  in  happy  pride, 
as  the  magnificent  pair  was  reviewed,  and  the 
trophy  awarded. 

Then  came  the  coaches,  heralded  by  bugle 
calls.  Round  the  tanbark  they  went,  an  old- 
time  coaching  print  embodied  into  modern  life 
and  action.  Here  was  such  a  well  matched  four 
as  we  rarely  see;  bright  bays,  leaders  and 
wheelers  alike  in  appearance  and  action.  Next 
them  moved  another  team,  black  as  night,  to  a 
coach  of  bright  magenta,  a  striking  sight.  The 
horses  moved  together  in  splendid  style,  but  the 
judges'  critical  taste  barred  them  out  on  ac- 
count of  the  loud  color  note.  Then  came  Man- 
ning's snow  white  coach,  tooled  by  himself.  It 
awoke  loud  applause,  as  it  swung  round  the 
ring  automaton  like,  under  the  touch  of  their 
master's  hands.  "Yes,  yes,  the  trophy  is  his  I" 
The  crowd  of  men  in  his  coach  cheered  lustily 
as  they  left  the  ring,  the  bugler  sounded  his 
loud  triumphant  note,  and  amid  the  waving  of 
thousands  of  handkerchiefs,  round  after  round 
of  resounding  applause,  the  horses  tossed  their 
proud  heads,  and  again  sped  round  the  ring 
and  out  the  gates. 

Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  had  left  her  box  to  drive 


THE  JUDGMENT  121 

the  captious  black  horse,  restlessly  champing 
his  bits  below.  The  last  event  was  called,  and 
into  the  ring,  the  horses  came  again.  Bays, 
chestnuts  and  grays,  with  here  and  there  a 
darker  horse.  Conspicuous  among  them,  the 
big  black  horse  to  the  pronounced  stanhope,  in 
which  sat  the  beautiful  woman,  handling  the 
ribbons  with  debonair  grace. 

From  the  boxes  the  remarks  came  openly: 
"Did  anyone  ever  hear  of  anything  so  bold!" 
"It  is  Manning's  big  black,  entered  as  her 
own!"  "Heavens!  that's  flagrant!"  "How 
will  they  accept  this!"  Meaning  glances 
flashed  from  box  to  box,  as  the  stanhope  and 
its  occupant  passed  down  the  arena. 

"Shameless!"  hissed  old  Mrs.  Norton,  eager 
of  voice,  and  loud  enough  for  all  to  hear.  She 
turned  to  Eleanor:  "Poor  child,  to  have  this 
shown  so  openly.  No  wonder  you  couldn't  en- 
joy the  show.  Too  bad!  Too  bad!  I  shall 
certainly  speak  to  William." 

Eleanor  struggled  for  composure,  as  for  a 
moment  she  turned  on  her  tormentor  scornful 
eyes,  then  shifting  them,  as  if  she  would  forget 
Mrs.  Norton's  words,  together  with  her  exist- 
ence, began  to  talk  to  Mrs.  Gordon-Leigh. 

Suddenly  someone  cried  out  shrilly  from  a 
box  far  down  the  line.  The  black  horse  had 
become  unruly.  A  careless  driver  had  scraped 


122  THE  JUDGMENT 

a  wheel,  making  him  break  and  begin  to  plunge. 
He  reared  and  pawed  the  air ;  then,  at  the  un- 
familiar touch  of  the  whip,  with  which  hi? 
driver  desperately  tried  to  quiet  him,  he  snorted 
in  rage,  and  broke  from  her  control,  the  lines 
hanging  loose,  where  he  had  snatched  them 
from  her  hands. 

Women  screamed,  leaning  from  their  boxes, 
and  men's  faces  began  to  blanch;  grooms  tried 
to  bar  the  way,  but  the  maddened  horse  rushed 
past  them.  The  woman  clung  wildly  to  the 
rail  of  the  vehicle,  her  face  white  with  terror. 
The  other  entries  in  the  event  rushed  out 
of  the  way  of  the  plunging,  uncontrollable 
animal. 

Manning,  seeing  the  danger,  rushed  down  into 
the  ring,  calling  out — "King!  King!  Stop, 
Stop ! ' '  and  the  horse,  quivering  in  every  limb, 
allowed  his  master  to  take  him  by  the  bridle. 

"Get  down,  Louise,  I'll  hold  him.  This 
comes  of  your  stubbornness,"  cried  Manning,  so 
excited  that  he  called  her  by  her  name.  As- 
sisted by  the  grooms  and  the  crowd  of  men  that 
now  invaded  the  tanbark,  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk 
left  the  ring,  and  began  a  pitiful  struggle  to  re- 
gain the  mastery  of  herself,  and  to  cover  her 
mortification. 

King  was  still  unquieted,  and  would  allow 
no  hand  to  touch  him  but  Manning's,  who  was, 


THE  JUDGMENT  123 

therefore,  obliged  to  lead  him  from  the  ring, 
and  the  show  broke  up  in  general  confusion  and 
excitement. 

"Oh,  let's  get  out!"  wailed  Mrs.  Howard, 
anxious  to  escape  the  inquisitive  eyes  and  re- 
marks leveled  at  them. 

" Wasn't  it  awful,  Mrs.  Manning?"  queried 
Mrs.  Overton,  determined  to  hear  Eleanor's 
voice,  while  the  incident  still  lived. 

"Yes,  certainly  exciting,  but  not  so  awful  as 
if  someone  had  been  injured,"  Eleanor  an- 
swered. 

"How  noble  of  your  husband  to  risk  his  life," 
cooed  Mrs.  Sloan- Webb. 

"Yes,"  answered  Eleanor,  "you  know  Mr. 
Manning  previously  owned  the  horse,  and  it  was 
easy  for  him  to  manage  it." 

Down  at  Sherry's,  at  every  table,  Mrs.  Van 
Buskirk's  spectacular  deliverance  by  Manning 
was  the  theme  of  gossip. 

Bobby  asked  Will  Ellis:  "Did  you  see  Van 
Buskirk?  He  was  near  the  entrance,  as  she 
went  out.  He  was  full  anyway,  and  the  look 
he  gave  her  wasn't  pleasant,  I  can  tell  you." 

"No,  Bobby,  he  has  looked  ugly  for  some 
time,  and  somebody  will  get  in  trouble  yet. 
Lord!  wasn't  Mrs.  Manning  cold  and  stiff? 
Wouldn't  she  be  a  wonder  if  she  had  any  feel- 
ing in  her?  With  all  her  beauty,  her  heart  is 


124  THE  JUDGMENT 

so  cold  that  no  one  can  interest  her.  Wouldn  't 
it  be  great  to  see  her  wake  up!" 

"I  tell  you,  Ellis,  she  is  not  dead,  she  will 
wake  up  yet,  some  day,  and  show  a  heart  that 
is  warm  enough,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

"Do  you  think  Mrs.  Van's  circus  trick  to- 
night will  bring  it  about  ? ' ' 

" Can't  tell  about  that,  but  I'll  bet  Mrs.  Van 
is  done  for  this  time.  You'll  see  that  from  now 
on  she  will  be  numbered  among  the  'caught.'  " 


CHAPTER  VHI 

THE  great  rooms  of  the  Loan  Exhibition  of 
Paintings,  at  the  Union  League  Club,  were 
filled  with  a  babbling,  tea-sipping,  weary-eyed 
crowd.  From  the  walls,  sombre  and  grave 
portraitures  gazed  down  upon  the  throng. 

Upstairs  there  was  more  room.  There  hung 
old  masterpieces  mingled  with  specimens  of 
the  shrieking  modern  paintings  now  invading 
the  realms  of  art. 

Every  now  and  then  above  the  general  hum 
was  heard  the  eager  voice  of  a  new  devotee  ex- 
pounding art,  all  unconscious  that  in  her  ardor, 
her  young  knowledge  shone  out  like  fresh  var- 
nish. 

"S-sh-sh!  Listen!  this  is  funny,"  giggled 
Mildred  Leigh  to  Bobby,  as  fragments  of  a 
nearby  conversation  floated  to  them. 

"It  reminds  me  of  a  beautiful  statue  I  saw 
at  the  Louvre  on  my  last  visit  to  Paris,"  de- 
clared a  richly  attired  matron,  her  jeweled  lorg- 
nette lifted  as  she  scanned  a  canvas,  where  was 
represented  that  well-known  struggling  form 
unwillingly  sinking  into  death's  cold  embrace. 
"Yes,  it  is  surely  the  same,"  the  shrill  voice 


126  THE  JUDGMENT 

declared,  "but  I  saw  it  in  marble  at  Paris.  It 
is  called  'The  Dying  Gladiolus.'  I  like  it  al- 
most as  well  as  another  one  called  'Apollo  with 
the  Devil's  Ears,'  "  and  unconscious  of  the 
spasms  of  mirth  behind  her,  the  new  million- 
airess passed  on  further  in  quest  of  pleasure. 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Van  Arsdale,  "of 
a  story  Ellis  told  at  the  club  last  night.  He 
went  that  morning  for  a  ride  with  Miss  Austin, 
whose  father  made  such  a  sudden  fortune  in 
sugar  last  Winter.  She  kept  him  waiting,  but 
Mrs.  Austin  entertained  him— vastly,  too,  from 
his  account.  Explaining  to  him  the  cause  of  her 
daughter's  delayed  appearance,  she  said:  'Oh! 
it  is  too  bad  that  Annie  is  late  for  her  ride,  but 
she  was  up  so  late  last  night,  and  when  you 
came  she  was  still  in  the  arms  of  Bacchus.' 
Ellis  assured  her  of  his  full  appreciation  of  the 
situation,  and  begged  Mrs.  Austin  to  allow  the 
girl  her  time." 

Two  canvases  hanging  together  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  gay  group.  Eanch  scenes  in 
Texas  representing  the  annual  Spring  round-up 
of  the  herd. 

The  two  paintings  were  palpitant  with  life. 
In  one,  the  cattle  crowded  together  in  the  center 
an  almost  indistinguishable  mass  of  color  and 
form,  with  now  and  again  a  lifted  head  waving 
angry  defiance  at  man 's  restraint.  On  the  con- 


THE  JUDGMENT  127 

fines  of  the  herd,  the  animals  could  be  more 
plainly  seen ;  one  moving  slowly  along  with  in- 
different serenity  following  his  leader  to  un- 
thinking doom,  while  by  his  side  another  reared 
his  angry  head,  shook  his  horns,  his  glaring  eyes 
and  expanded  nostrils  expressing  unwilling  rec- 
ognition of  man's  compelling  force.  Toward 
the  left  corner,  a  red  steer  pawed  the  dust,  send- 
ing it  skyward;  his  lowered  head  and  sullen 
posture  showing  his  wish  to  incite  the  herd  to 
outbreak.  Toward  the  disturbing  element  two 
cowboys  dashed.  The  small  lithe  ponies 
stretched  their  limbs  in  that  sweeping  gait 
known  only  to  the  prairies ;  one  rider,  his  bridle 
hanging  on  his  horse 's  neck,  shouting  a  warning 
to  the  molester.  You  could  almost  hear  his: 
"Hi-ee!"  as  he  waved  his  broad-brimmed  hat; 
the  hanging  noose  of  rope  trailed  behind  him. 
His  feet  in  the  stirrups  raised  him  from  the  sad- 
dle as  the  horse  came  on.  His  fringed  leather 
leggings  were  stiff  from  exposure  and  age,  and 
his  brown  flannel  shirt  was  open  at  the  neck, 
around  which  was  knotted  a  big  red  handker- 
chief, its  brightness  emphasizing  the  tan  of  his 
face  and  throat.  His  smiling  face  showed  no 
touch  of  care  or  sorrow ;  an  untroubled  child  of 
Nature  set  in  his  native  realm,  happy  and  free 
as  the  wind,  asking  nothing  but  his  steed  and  life 
and  action. 


128  THE  JUDGMENT 

The  companion  picture  gave  another  glimpse 
into  this  prairie  life.  The  whole  angry  herd 
aroused,  had  broken  from  the  men's  control. 
On  they  thundered,  led  by  the  belligerent  red 
steer,  which  pawed  the  earth  in  the  other  pic- 
ture. His  head  was  outstretched  in  the  pride  of 
his  evil  conquest,  and  in  wild  abandon  of  unre- 
straint he  led  the  maddened  thundering  herd 
from  the  grasp  of  the  outdistanced  cowboys, 
racing  behind  them  in  a  wild  endeavor  to  over- 
take and  turn  the  stampeded  cattle. 

In  both  pictures  lay  the  level  green  prairie ; 
the  same  golden  sunshine  poured  down.  The 
same  violet  shaded  haze  stretched  far  and  wide, 
and  over  all,  the  deep  blue  sky  bent  its  unbroken 
dome,  unflecked  by  the  passing  fret  of  a  single 
cloud.  The  two  pictures,  "Control"  and  " Un- 
restraint," breathed  from  the  canvas  great  les- 
sons, and  before  them,  even  the  frivolous  group 
were  momentarily  quiet ;  a  few  of  them  through 
admiration  of  the  wonderful  paintings,  still 
fewer  because  they  grasped  the  lessons  taught, 
and  the  rest  silent  because  the  others  were  si- 
lent. 

"What  is  the  attraction  down  there,  I  won- 
der," cried  Robert  Van  Arsdale,  and  as  they 
turned  to  look,  he  added,  "Let's  go  and  see." 

As  they  neared  a  new  canvas,  Mrs.  Gordon- 
Leigh  exclaimed,  "Mrs.  Manning's  portrait! 


THE  JUDGMENT  129 

It  is  DeWitte's  new  painting,  and  marvellously 
beautiful!" 

Surely  the  judges  had  meant  to  place  the 
painting  advantageously,  for  the  warm  light  fell 
upon  it  with  a  soft  caress,  as  if  even  it  loved 
the  beauty  of  the  picture.  Like  a  lovely  human 
soul  bared  to  the  inquisitive  gaze  of  the  world, 
the  pictured  woman  stood,  her  face  half  raised, 
her  eager  eyes  unconscious  of  their  beauty ;  set- 
ting her  apart,  above  and.  beyond  the  gaping 
crowd,  who  all  unable  to  reach  her  soul  could 
but  stand  and  gaze,  criticise  and  cavil  at  this 
unexpected  glimpse  of  a  woman's  living,  loving, 
throbbing  heart. 

As  a  man  behind  her  caught  his  breath  with  a 
quick  little  sound,  Mildred  Gordon-Leigh  turned 
to  him  with  a  spiteful  laugh:  "Would  you  rec- 
ognize her?"  she  asked  mockingly.  "Have 
you  seen  her  look  like  this,  or  does  she  keep  this 
happy  face  for  the  handsome  painter  alone?" 

Half  a  dozen  women  joined  in  the  amusement 
that  this  sally  provoked,  until  Dr.  Bryan  re- 
marked in  a  half  tone  to  his  neighbor:  "I  dis- 
cover the  unpardonable  sin.  It  is  to  combine 
with  beauty  the  lost  art  of  virtuous  woman- 
hood." 

Another  woman  asked:  "Do  you  think  Mr. 
Manning  will  follow  the  example  of  Mr.  Roch- 
ester, who  last  Winter  had  his  wife's  portrait 


130  THE  JUDGMENT 

painted  by  this  same  remarkable  gentleman 
with  the  faculty  of  unearthing  hidden  and  un- 
expected beauty?  When  he  saw  the  result  of 
Mr.  DeWitte's  labor,  he  cried,  'A  beautiful 
picture,  but  certainly  not  my  wife.'  'I'm  sorry 
you  do  not  consider  the  likeness  good, '  DeWitte 
answered.  'No,  it  is  not  my  wife,'  the  husband 
reiterated,  'and  I  hardly  like  to  pay  so  much 
for  a  portrait  which  does  not  please  me.'  Then 
followed  the  suggestion  that  the  painter  reduce 
his  price,  at  which,  to  show  his  scorn,  Mr.  De- 
Witte picked  up  a  knife  and  deliberately  slashed 
the  picture  into  ribbons." 

Here  Mildred  Gordon-Leigh's  insulting 
laugh  broke  in  on  the  recital : ' '  Did  you  inquire 
if  Mr.  DeWitte  would  treat  this  painting  with 
like  indignity  ?  Ha !  ha !  ha !  ha ! " 

In  her  amusement  she  did  not  notice  the  look 
of  confusion  that  had  spread  over  the  group 
until  she  glanced  up  to  meet  Eleanor's  scornful 
smile. 

She  was  truly  not  like  the  picture  now,  as 
she  swept  the  faces  of  the  group  with  her  scorn- 
ful glance,  until  it  fell  on  Dr.  Bryan,  whose 
blaze-lit  eyes  seemed  to  scorch  with  fury  the 
spiteful  woman  as  she  made  her  laughing  jest, 
then  to  her  soul  a  sweet  voice  whispered:  ''My 
good,  true  friend." 

Just  as  Eleanor  halted,   Mrs.  Norton  and 


THE  JUDGMENT  131 

Maude  came  up.  The  old  woman  raised  her 
harsh  voice  with  cruel  distinctness  as  she 
asked  of  Eleanor:  "Have  you  come,  my  dear, 
to  see  the  wonderful  painting  so  few  can  rec- 
ognize! Is  there  indeed  within  you  that  feel- 
ing which  the  painter  declares  so  boldly  to  have 
found?'  Are  you  not  guilty  of  unkindness  in 
hiding  such  sweetness  from  us,  to  lavish  on  one 
what  all  might  love  to  see?" 

At  the  words,  Eleanor's  face  hardened  with 
cold  disdain.  The  bitter  notes  that  had  found 
a  home  in  her  oldtime  happy  laughter  blighted 
it  as  she  replied:  "No,  you  are  right;  there  is 
in  me  no  likeness  to  this  painting.  Surely  the 
look  which  excites  you  all  to  mirth  is  but  a 
touch  of  fanciful  imagery  on  the  part  of  the 
creator  of  this  unknown  woman.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  imagine  myself  looking  like  that  paint- 
ing, surrounded  as  I  am,  for  is  there  anywhere 
among  the  people  we  know,  a  single  face  that 
does  not  bear  traces  of  the  scars  left  by  contact 
with  envy,  hatred  and  greed?" 

"Hush,  Eleanor,  for  God's  sake,  don't  rouse 
her,"  Dr.  Bryan  whispered. 

"Ah,  indeed,  you  surprise  me  by  exhibiting 
such  intense  resentment  at  the  mere  suspicion 
of  an  unsuspected  happiness;  the  boon  we  all 
so  fondly  crave.  My  friends,  'tis  truly  said  that 
'Wonders  never  cease.'  " 


132  THE  JUDGMENT 

Mrs.  Norton  had  gained  her  point;  had  pro- 
voked Eleanor  into  a  show  of  resentment  at 
the  comment  raised  by  the  unwonted  look  upon 
her  pictured  face,  and  in  the  joy  of  it,  she 
laughed  cruelly. 

The  Sunday  morning  following  found  Elea- 
nor in  the  generally  unoccupied  Manning  pew, 
in  the  magnificent  church.  Just  before  the 
organ's  first  deep  note  was  heard,  then  with  the 
increasing  louder  swelling  music,  up  the  center 
aisle  began  to  move  the  chanting  choir. 

On  they  came,  the  sweet  childish  voices  of 
the  well-trained  choristers  answering  and  min- 
gling with  the  solemn  notes  of  the  organ  in  a 
grand  processional  hymn. 

The  white-robed  choir  passed  her  pew,  took 
their  places,  and  the  service  began. 

The  wonderful  music  thrilled  her!  Her 
throbbing  heart  repeated,  and  over  again  as- 
sured her:  "Here  is  rest.  Here  is  peace. 
Here  inside  the  sacred  pale  of  God's  Church  is 
a  haven  of  comfort.  Best  in  peace,  sad  heart ; 
lift  up  your  drooping  head;  hearken  to  the 
sweet  message  of  love.  Be  of  good  cheer. 
The  trembling  rainbow  of  promise  begins  to 
tint  your  clouded  sky.  With  God's  almighty 
hand  outstretched  to.  aid  you,  earthly  sorrows 
fall  behind.  He  can  uphold,  uplift,  and  bear 
you  onward,  till  beyond  their  reach  you  sing 


THE  JUDGMENT  133 

with  that  invisible  chorus,  join  your  feeble 
trembling  human  voice  to  that  never  ceasing, 
ever  swelling  joy-filled  Gloria  that  shall  echo 
down  the  ages,  declaring  God's  love  and  mercy 
to  redeem  humanity." 

What  the  clergyman  said,  Eleanor  never 
knew.  He  stood  in  the  pulpit,  his  palely  in- 
teresting face  gleaming  in  the  subdued  light 
that  fell  through  the  stained  windows.  His 
white  hands  and  graceful  gestures  accentuated 
his  priestly  form,  clad  in  his  snowy  vestments 
as  he  delivered  his  careful  and  well-phrased 
sermon. 

Behind  his  scholarly  figure,  another  shone, 
and  from  the  pictured  face  in  the  window  there 
Seemed  to  radiate  that  wondrous  peace  past 
man's  understanding,  toward  which  we  turn 
our  eager  hearts,  to  find  an  all  abounding  glory 
when  once  we  really  desire  to  find  it.  "Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  heavy  laden,"  ran  the 
illuminated  text  around  the  window  wherein 
the  picture  lay,  and  the  gentle  face  seemed  to 
repeat  the  message :  "If  ye  yearn  for  love,  if  ye 
yearn  for  peace,  if  the  waves  of  the  world  beat 
hard  upon  you,  carrying  you  far  out  to  the 
treacherous  ocean  of  sin ;  then  turn  to  me.  If 
ye  can  but  lift  your  eyes,  lift  them  now  to  me. 
Arouse  your  fainting  heart  to  longing  for  the 
peace  and  love  I  bring.  Believe  in  me ;  I  know 


134  THE  JUDGMENT 

your  sorrow,  I  know  your  pain,  I  know  your 
heart-ache,  I  know  your  woe.  I  have  felt  them 
all,  but  I  can  refresh  you,  I  can  save  you,  I  can 
— I  will  redeem." 

Again  the  organ  spoke,  and  the  acolyte  in  his 
scarlet  robe  lifted  high  the  golden  cross,  the 
sign  of  man's  redemption,  and  following  it 
down  the  aisle  slowly  came  the  chanting  choir. 
The  upraised  golden  cross  advanced,  and  in  the 
light  of  it,  the  suffering  woman  lost  sight  of  its 
bearer.  "Just  the  cross !"  she  breathed,  "help 
me,  help  me,  help  me."  Nearer,  nearer  still 
came  the  cross,  shining  radiant  and  golden. 
Eleanor  sank  to  her  knees,  her  eyes  fixed  on  it 
embedded  in  a  radiant  halo,  symbolic  of  its  sav- 
ing grace.  On  her  knees,  sobs  shook  her  slen- 
der form,  struggle  against  them  as  she  would. 
"Save  me,  0  Lord,  in  my  dire  extremity.  Be 
to  me  the  friend  I  need.  Teach  me,  lead  me, 
I  will  cling  to  thee,"  she  prayed. 

"Yes,  I  will  see  him  at  once,"  she  decided  on 
the  swift  homeward  drive.  "Surely,  he,  the 
man  of  God,  can  help  advise  and  strengthen  my 
faltering  feet." 

For  months  past  it  had  seemed  plain  that  a 
separation  from  her  husband  must  surely  come. 
"You  will  lose  every  friend,  reputation,  money, 
position,  all ;  oh !  I  had  rather  die, ' '  her  mother 
wailed  at  each  fresh  outbreak.  "I  beg  you  to 


THE  JUDGMENT  135 

stand  it  until  I  am  dead, ' '  she  insisted,  * ;  let  me 
die  in  peace,"  until  her  daughter's  heart  was 
torn  anew  between  her  outraged  womanhood 
and  her  desire  to  care  for,  protect  and  defend 
the  helpless  parent  dependent  upon  her. 

As  Ealph  Whittington,  the  stately  rector  of 
St.  John's,  rang  the  door  bell  at  the  Manning 
home,  he  inwardly  wondered  if  he  could  credit- 
ably extricate  himself  from  this  unpleasant  po- 
sition. 

The  social  world  soon  learns  to  understand 
the  circumstances  of  its  various  members,  and 
few  are  possessed  of  more  thorough  knowledge 
than  the  rectors  of  the  churches.  The  divorces, 
scandals,  feuds  and  estrangements  with  which 
we  engage  ourselves,  are  to  him  an  old  story, 
often  told,  and  to  maintain  a  sure  foothold  on 
the  slippery  paths  of  popular  favor,  steering 
clear  of  the  breakers  of  partiality,  is  an  under- 
taking worthy  of  Machiavelian  strategy.  This 
was  Dr.  Whittington 's  pride;  invariably  to 
give  each  suppliant  for  the  support  of  his 
priestly  influence  an  unincriminating  answer; 
keeping  his  own  skirts  clear.  It  is  quite  a 
task  sometimes. 

He  understood  the  Manning  situation  with 
its  many  complications.  Mrs.  Norton's  deep- 
rooted  animosity,  the  equally  bitter  resentment 
of  the  Manning  sisters,  Manning's  well-known 


136  THE  JUDGMENT 

connection  with  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk — daily 
growing  more  flagrant— his  insulting  ill  treat- 
ment of  his  well-nigh  friendless  wife,  whose 
silly,  weak  and  selfish  mother  hung  to  her,  an 
irremovable  incubus.  He  knew  it  all,  and  since 
Eleanor's  message  of  yesterday  reached  him, 
he  had  carefully  reviewed  the  ground,  going 
over  the  resources  of  each.  "I  cannot  offend 
the  Nortons.  The  old  woman  is  stingy,  but 
their  contributions  would  be  seriously  missed. 
The  Manning  girls  have  little  to  give  besides 
what  their  brother  allows  them,  but  to  turn 
them  and  his  valuable  influence  against  me 
would  be  ridiculously  foolish.  No,  my  advice 
to  Mrs.  Manning  must  be  of  the  most  conserv- 
ative kind.  Indeed,  she  must  at  all  hazards  be 
influenced  against  an  outbreak.  But  I  will  ac- 
complish it  without  incurring  her  dislike,"  and 
it  was  with  the  comfort  of  an  unusual  self-as- 
surance that  he  rang  the  bell. 

She  did  not  keep  him  waiting.  Instead,  she 
was  eagerly  waiting  for  his  coming,  and  greeted 
him  in  her  private  sitting-room.  His  pale  face 
was  filled  with  unctuous  grace  as  he  held  her 
hand  a  short  moment,  murmuring:  "I  trust  I 
find  you  very  well,  as  well  as  very  happy." 

"It  is  because  I  am  not,  that  I  have  sent  for 
you,"  she  answered  with  her  oldtime  straight- 
forwardness. Then  she  told  him  her  story. 


THE  JUDGMENT  137 

The  long  recital  of  the  woes  heaviest  to  woman- 
hood came  in  a  torrent  of  heartbreaking  words, 
with  finally  an  appeal  for  guidance,  a  quaver- 
ing cry  for  help.  Could  it  be  that  he  heard  her 
aright?  Did  he  indeed  feel  no  more  than  the 
polite  mask,  with  which  he  shielded  his  inward 
thoughts  indicated,  remaining  all  unmoved  at 
the  pitiful  tale  of  suffering?  At  last  he  broke 
the  silence:  "You  have,  dear  Mrs.  Manning, 
allowed  yourself  to  become  excited.  Your  mind 
is  overwrought.  I  am  sure  you  will  to-morrow 
see  the  mistake  of  the  step  you  would  take  to- 
day," his  softly  modulated  voice  reiterated, 
after  a  careful  recital  of  his  narrow,  common- 
place views. 

"You  mean  I  should  continue  to  bear  it  all?" 
she  asked,  in  blank  surprise  at  the  lack  of  re- 
sponsiveness he  showed. 

"My  dear  lady,"  he  began  again,  "look  about 
you.  Here  on  every  side  behold  the  lavishness 
of  the  love  with  which  your  husband  surrounds 
you.  You  doubtless  misunderstand  him.  Can 
you  not  by  your  love  and  tenderness  draw  him 
back  to  you?  You  must  try.  You  must  bear 
the  slight  neglect,  overlook  all  jealousy,  forego 
suspicion,  cultivate  love,  turn  to  him  the  other 
cheek  if  perchance  he  smite  you.  You  speak  of 
divorce ;  it  would  be  the  greatest  folly,  and  be- 
sides the  tide  is  against  it.  Look  at  the  wide- 


138  THE  JUDGMENT 

spread  storm  the  very  word  brings  forth.  No, 
no,  you  must  forego  the  thought."  How  much 
more  he  said,  Eleanor  could  not  remember. 

"Is  this  your  peace?"  she  hotly  cried.  "Is 
this  your  comfort?  Is  this  the  shelter  you  offer 
to  sin-sick  and  suffering  humanity1?  Your 
church  condemns  divorce,  you  say,  yes,  it  is 
against  the  tenets  of  your  faith,  but  a  divorce 
is  still  a  legal  thing,  as  lawful  as  this,  legalized 
slavery ;  this  so-called  marriage  in  which  every 
fibre  of  womanhood  is  outraged,  insulted  and 
disgraced,  where  every  day  and  every  hour  is 
a  long  drawn  hell  of  miserable  atonement  for 
the  ignorant  sin  of  having  taken  that  impossi- 
ble vow  to  love  and  honor  a  pitiful  wretch,  to 
know  whom  is  but  to  hate  and  despise.  You 
recommend  that  I  willingly  continue  my  servi- 
tude, consent  to  this  unceasing  butchery  of 
every  finer  feeling ;  that  I  withhold  not  my  cheek 
to  the  smiter's  hand.  Have  you  tried  it?  I 
ask  you,  can  you  tell  how  it  is  done?  Can  you 
impart  the  power  to  smile  when  yon  receive 
the  cruel  cuts  of  the  social  knout?  I  have 
asked  you  for  help,  asked  you  for  succor,  asked 
you  for  support,  and  you  tell  me — 'Go  back  to 
my  slavery,  to  learn  under  the  lash  to  bless  the 
hand  that  wields  it. '  Then  take  your  advice  and 
go.  Give  to  another  form  of  being  this  Chris- 
tian help  of  which  you  prate.  As  well  tell  the 


THE  JUDGMENT  139 

starving,  thirsting  hind  to  turn  away  from  the 
cooling  forest  stream  as  to  say  to  me:  ' Enjoy 
your  servitude,  turn  back  from  your  thought  of 
freedom,'  for  I  tell  you  now,  I  reject  your  ad- 
vice, I  turn  with  all  my  suffering  heart  from 
your  temporizing  phrases,  which  you  call  the 
comfort  of  the  Church.  Since  this  hope  fails 
me,  I  will  remain  as  I  am  until  deliverance 
comes;  then  if  it  comes,  even  though  the  hand 
outstretched  to  me  shall  reek  of  blood  or  shall 
horrify  the  senses  with  the  stench  of  scandal, 
if  it  does  all  this  and  more,  I  will  blind  my  eyes 
to  its  repulsiveness,  and  gladly,  yes,  joyfully 
accept  it." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  guests  of  Mrs.  Overtoil's  "Week  End" 
were  arriving  at  the  handsome  country  home, 
her  latest  extravagance. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  them  all,  but  I  want  to  have 
a  good  time,  too,  and  I  can't  if  I  have  to  stay 
in  the  house  and  wait  for  them,"  she  explained, 
as  she  strolled  over  the  green  stretches  of  the 
golf  links,  here  and  there  dotted  with  bright- 
hued  players. 

Mrs.  Overton  did  not  often  play,  but  the  links 
made  entertaining  easy  and  reduced  the  day- 
time part  of  it,  to  a  minimum. 

The  noisy  throbbing  of  a  large  automobile 
was  heard  and  the  machine  soon  came  into 
view  laden  with  a  laughing  crowd.  As  they 
descended  at  the  door,  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  cried : 
''This  is  modern  life  with  a  vengeance.  No 
hostess,  no  welcome,  no  handshake;  let's  all  go 
in  anyway,  and  make  believe  we  like  it." 

From  her  vantage  ground  in  the  pretty  rustic 
summerhouse,  Mrs.  Overton 's  companion  ob- 
served to  her:  "I  see  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  has 
come.  Now  things  will  happen,"  and  they  did. 

140 


THE  JUDGMENT  141 

Most  of  the  group  had  assembled  in  the 
drawing-room,  awaiting  the  announcement  of 
dinner,  when  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  made  her  ap- 
pearance. Her  beauty  had  rarely  been  better 
displayed  than  by  the  geranium  pink  velvet 
gown  falling  in  exquisite  lines  from  its  embrace 
of  her  very  bare  neck  and  shoulders.  Across 
her  bosom  a  slight  drapery  of  lace  was  thinly 
spread,  and  a  slender  chain  of  diamonds  in  lieu 
of  shoulder  straps  ran  across  the  glowing  flesh. 
Her  dark  hair  was  gathered  high,  and  her  smil- 
ing face  typified  youth,  health  and  passionately 
enjoyed  happiness. 

Mrs.  Overton  liked  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk.  "She 
is  sure  to  entertain  herself  and  you,"  she  ex- 
plained. Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  may  or  may  not 
have  noted  the  frigidity  which  her  coming  cast 
over  the  group  of  women  standing  together.  If 
she  noticed  it,  her  laughter  was  just  as  gay,  her 
anecdotes  as  witty  as  if  she  knew  herself  to  be 
the  most  appreciated  guest.  At  the  rather 
boisterous  laughter  from  the  group  surround- 
ing her,  glances  were  exchanged  and  a  woman 
said  in  a  half-audible  voice:  "It  seems  to  me 
I'd  like  to  be  a  trifle  less  visibly  delighted." 

"Then  it  is  a  fact  that  the  Manning  divorce 
will  be?" 

"Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  acts  like  it,"  returned 
the  first  speaker. 


142  THE  JUDGMENT 

"I  can't  understand  such  effrontery,  at  least 
beforehand." 

The  crowd  must  have  been  waiting  for  Mrs. 
Ross-Scott's  fiat  as  to  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk's  so- 
cial fate,  for  when  she  passed  her  coldly  by,  no 
woman  in  the  house  dared  support  her  when 
Mrs.  Ross-Scott  intimated  support  and  recog- 
nition should  be  withheld.  In  this  case,  she 
spared  no  pains  to  express  her  disapproval  of 
the  presence  of  the  beautiful  participant  in  the 
horse  show  festivities. 

During  the  course  of  the  dinner,  snatches  of 
talk  could  be  heard,  with  every  now  and  then 
expressions  of  astonishing  candor  such  as 
would  have  brought  a  blush  to  the  unsophisti- 
cated, if  such  an  one  were  there.  Mrs.  Over- 
ton  was  far  too  experienced  and  wise  a  hostess 
to  bring  together  alien  spirits,  and  no  one 
blushed. 

Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  saw  the  growing  coldness, 
but  her  face  showed  no  sign  of  it,  and  her 
laughter  and  wit  were  almost  feverish.  The 
men  on  either  side  of  her  were  openly  delighted, 
and  indeed  the  rest  of  them  all  down  the  line 
of  the  table  were  so  evidently  entertained  and 
interested,  that  to  bring  them  back  to  their 
proper  senses,  the  female  members  of  the  party 
must  assume  more  virtuous  austerity.  When 
at  the  close  of  the  dinner  they  filed  back  to  the 


THE  JUDGMENT  143 

drawing-rooms,  leaving  the  gentlemen  to  the 
wines  and  cigars,  each  man  followed  the  gor- 
geous figure  in  the  low  cut  pink  velvet  gown, 
the  last  to  disappear,  with  that  undisguised 
admiration,  to  some  women  acceptable,  to  some 
others,  insult. 

"Jove!  She  carried  it  high,"  cried  Robert 
Van  Arsdale,  as  the  door  closed. 

"Yes,  she  made  a  hit  here,  but  in  there— oh, 
Lord! — when  they  are  done  with  her." 

The  following  morning,  when  the  golf  links 
had  reduced  the  crowd  to  half  its  size,  and 
bridge  tables  were  engaging  the  others,  Mrs. 
Van  Buskirk  realized  that  these  few  days  among 
her  erstwhile  friends  would  likely  serve  to  de- 
termine her  future  fate,  and  almost  desperate 
at  the  enforced  knowledge,  she  grew  excited 
and  unwise. 

The  bridge  players  did  not  want  her;  that 
was  evident.  No  one  invited  her  to  share  her 
favorite  game,  eagerly  as  she  desired  it,  and 
when  wandering  through  the  rooms,  the  re- 
ception accorded  her  was  not  the  most  in- 
spiring. The  golf  links  held  no  fascination  for 
her ;  besides,  the  outside  wind  was  cold,  and  her 
feet  far  prettier  in  dainty  slippers  than  in  stout 
walking  shoes.  "Shall  I  fail  to  profit  out  of 
this  visit?"  she  asked  herself,  angrily,  thinking 
of  the  bridge  game  in  progress  without  her. 


144  THE  JUDGMENT 

Not  until  evening  did  her  time  come  again. 
She  made  her  appearance  clad  in  a  gorgeous 
gown  of  orange-hued  satin  overhung  with  thin 
chiffon  softening  and  subduing  the  shine  of  the 
underdress,  a  few  touches  of  soft,  brown  fur 
adding  the  darker  notes.  Always  exception- 
ally decollete,  to-night  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  ex- 
celled herself,  and  her  beautiful  arms  and 
shoulders  excited  wonder  and  admiration 
among  her  fellow  guests.  She  wore  rubies  on 
her  white  breast,  and  the  glittering  jewels 
flashed  and  shone  with  life-like  lustre  as  if 
tinged  with  the  rich,  red  blood  enlivening  their 
wearer.  Yellow;  the  daring  color  whose  very 
wearing  is  a  challenge  when  tinted  to  that 
shade.  When  a  woman  dons  it,  she  has  either 
passed  the  boundaries  of  prudence,  or  else  she 
feels  secure  in  the  omnipotence  of  beauty. 

A  few  minutes  before  the  announcement  of 
dinner,  the  drawing-room  was  the  scene  of  the 
meeting  of  the  members  of  the  house  party. 

An  awkward  young  millionairess,  her  coro- 
net still  unfamiliar  to  her  head,  stood  talking 
to  Mrs.  Gordon-Leigh  and  Mildred.  Near 
them  DeWitte  faced  the  door,  a  curious  little 
smile  upon  his  handsome  face.  They  at- 
tempted to  draw  him  into  their  conversation, 
but  of  late  the  popular  painter  had  grown  quite 
indifferent  to  the  burdensome  adulation  so  gen- 


.THE  JUDGMENT  145 

erally  bestowed,  and  to  his  face  had  come  new 
lines.  Emboldened  by  the  confidence  of  pre- 
eminence bestowed  by  great  wealth,  the  rich 
young  lady  playfully  remarked  to  him:  "You 
must  be  proud  of  the  stir  created  by  your  lovely 
painting,  Mr.  DeWitte."  But  being  a  new- 
comer into  the  regions  of  society,  she  was  un- 
able to  appreciate  the  stir  she  had  caused,  by 
her  chance  reference  to  the  now  well-known 
painting.  An  angry  flash  came  into  De- 
Witte's  eyes,  and  he  turned  to  the  girl  as 
though  he  would  annihilate  her  for  her  unlucky 
remark  coming  at  just  the  wrong  time,  for  Elea- 
nor and  her  husband  were  by  now  well  within 
earshot  of  them. 

A  titter  from  the  listening  women  followed 
Miss  De  Smythe's  luckless  reference,  but  the 
amusement  of  the  women  and  the  man's  re- 
sentment only  bewildered  her,  who,  anxious  to 
please,  turned  to  Mrs.  Gordon-Leigh,  and  help- 
lessly appealed:  "What  have  I  done?" 

Manning  sought  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk's  side, 
and  his  black  eyes  roved  admiringly  over  the 
handsome  picture  she  made,  greeting  him  with 
pleased  animation. 

Eleanor  knew  that  she  had  made  few  friends 
in  this  alien  social  world,  and  the  knowledge 
had  increased  her  air  of  aloofness,  until  she  was 
almost  antagonistic  in  her  attitude.  Always 


146  THE  JUDGMENT 

proud  and  reserved,  she  had  now  become  cold 
and  hardened  in  her  estimates  of  mankind. 

"Your  sister's  gowns  are  a  continual  reve- 
lation, Maude,"  whispered  Mrs.  Gordon-Leigh, 
and  indeed  it  was  true  of  Eleanor.  She  was 
draped  in  soft  creamy  toned  lace  that  fell  in 
foamy  billows  to  the  floor.  The  bodice  was  of 
embroidery,  and  just  escaped  being  yellow, 
while  suggesting  that  vivid  hue.  The  lace  of  the 
gown  was  priceless  with  exquisitely  wrought 
golden  embroidery.  She  wore  a  tiara  of  emer- 
alds interspersed  with  diamonds.  The  same 
gems  shone  on  her  neck  and  arms,  and  to  a 
string  of  pearls  around  her  neck  was  suspended 
a  tiny  fan,  sparkling  with  the  same  bright 
stones. 

As  Manning  left  her  standing  beside  her 
mother,  to  join  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk,  Mrs.  Boss- 
Scott  turned  to  Mrs.  Williamson,  and  remarked : 
"No  light  touches  for  him;  you  see,  he  admires 
and  seeks  the  heavier  tones.  Strange  that  even 
in  dress  to-night  they  should  be  rivals,  and  that 
the  faint  yellow  tints  of  the  wife's  dress  should 
be  outdone  by  the  overflow  of  the  same  color 
with  which  her  victorious  rival  bedecks  herself. 
Mark  me,  this  scene  typifies  the  final  result." 
Her  companion  whispered  in  a  half  pitying 
tone:  "How  sad  for  the  poor  young  thing;  but 
she  does  look  rather  cold,  doesn't  she,  and  to 


THE  JUDGMENT  147 

the  victors  belong  the  spoils."  And  as  nothing 
succeeds  like  success,  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  felt 
her  spirits  rise,  and  showed  her  pleasure  at 
Manning's  arrival,  and  from  the  glances  fol- 
lowing them  after  he  joined  her,  she  gathered 
future  acknowledgments  of  her  victory. 

"Oh,  Will!  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  I 
have  been  wild  to  see  you  all  day,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "Come  right  over  here,  and  tell  me 
all  the  news,  and  what  you  have  been  doing." 
She  held  him  until  the  dinner  was  announced, 
and  as  the  meal  progressed,  indulged  so  freely 
in  the  wines,  that  towards  the  end  it  was  plainly 
seen  that  she  was  becoming  intoxicated.  In  her 
excitement  and  exhilaration,  her  glances  at 
Manning  and  her  remarks  to  him  were  too 
plainly  eloquent  of  meaning  to  be  overlooked. 
He  was,  happily  for  her,  more  drunk  than  she, 
and  neither  of  them  seemed  to  notice  the  stir 
their  conduct  made. 

"Heaven  help  her!"  groaned  DeWitte,  with 
covert  glances  at  Eleanor's  face.  "How  can 
she  bear  it — I  would  give  my  soul  to  gain  hap- 
piness for  her— while  he,  who  has  the  right, 
does — this. ' ' 

Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  had  overdone  the  thing 
this  time,  and  there  was  no  mistaking  the  fact, 
from  the  rigid  and  determined  way  in  which 
the  women  of  the  party  withdrew  themselves 


148  THE  JUDGMENT 

from  her  at  the  dance  which  followed.  It  was 
not,  therefore,  for  her,  the  brilliant  success  for 
which  she  had  hoped,  when  Manning's  deser- 
tion of  his  wife  had  in  imagination  sounded  her 
triumphant  march  to  victory. 

Hating  Eleanor  as  she  did,  she  had  promised 
herself  the  pleasure  of  coupling  the  ignominy 
of  the  divorce,  upon  which  Manning  had  now 
almost  decided,  with  the  scandal  of  an  intrigue 
with  DeWitte,  for  she  said  in  no  other  way 
could  she  fully  repay  herself  for  Eleanor's  un- 
disguised contempt. 

But  contrary  to  her  proud  expectations,  the 
moment  of  her  humiliation  was  near.  Most  of 
the  women  of  the  party  followed  Mrs.  Boss- 
Scott's  lead,  ignoring  her  presence  in  the  most 
pointed  manner.  Her  assurance  even  in  her 
chagrin  did  not  forsake  her,  and  when  the  time 
of  departure  came,  in  lieu  of  other  adieux  from 
erstwhile  friends,  she  sauntered  unconcernedly 
over  to  Mrs.  Overton's  pet  Pomeranian,  sleep- 
ing on  a  rug,  shook  his  paw  gravely,  and  called 
out  in  a  gay  voice:  ''Good-bye,  dog,"  then  amid 
covert  laughter  from  the  men  and  stony  glances 
from  the  women,  she  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  X 

SINCE  Mrs.  Overtoil's  week-end  party,  tlie  feel- 
ing of  extreme  unrest  had  been  more  than  ever 
manifest  in  the  Manning  home.  Mrs.  How- 
ard's bitter  resentment  of  the  scandal  created 
by  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk's  bold  disregard  of  ap- 
pearances, found  only  one  safe  vent — Eleanor. 
She  dared  not  complain  openly  at  her  son-in- 
law,  and  since  complain  she  must,  her  daughter 
felt  the  full  measure  of  her  discontent,  and  the 
days  were  spent  in  unending  repetitions  of  her 
lament. 

Manning  was  not  much  at  home,  but  what 
time  he  spent  there  was  an  unabated  horror. 
He  allowed  no  opportunity  to  escape  of  morti- 
fying or  enraging  his  wife.  In  the  privacy  of 
their  home,  he  was  openly  insulting,  and  though 
he  insisted  upon  her  frequent  attendance  at 
social  functions  with  him,  it  appeared  to  be 
mainly  for  the  purpose  of  parading  his  unkind- 
ness  and  disrespect. 

Eleanor  rarely  quarrelled;  in  fact,  it  was 
hard  to  engage  her  in  any  conversation  in  which 
he  had  part;  but  she  had  grown  more  callous 
to  the  opinion  of  the  world,  harder  hearted, 

149 


150  THE  JUDGMENT 

more  unfriendly  and  unfriended.  The  youth- 
ful warmth  of  her  earlier  manner  had  given 
place  to  the  coldness  of  disillusionment  and 
made  of  her  that  which  any  loving  heart  would 
hate  to  see  the  object  of  its  love  become. 

One  morning  nearly  a  week  after  Mrs.  Over- 
ton's  party,  Mrs.  Howard,  greatly  agitated, 
burst  into  Eleanor's  room,  holding  out  in  her 
trembling  hands  an  open  letter.  "Just  listen 
to  this  awful  thing!"  she  cried  in  tragic  tones. 
"  William  is  going  to  divorce  you— why,  oh, 
why  must  I  suffer  so — why  could  I  not  have 
died  in  peace  like  your  poor  father !  Divorced ! 
— Disgraced!— Heaven  help  me — Let  me  die," 
and  in  a  paroxysm  of  angry  tears,  and  tumul- 
tuous excitement,  she  thrust  the  paper  into 
Eleanor's  hands. 

"And  did  he  write  you  instead  of  me?"  Elea- 
nor rose  with  the  question. 

"Read  it!  Eead,  and  see  to  what  you  have 
brought  me,"  her  mother's  smothered  voice  re- 
turned, and  Eleanor  read : 

"Dear  Will: — I  beg  you  not  to  enter  your 
plea  for  a  divorce  from  your  detested  wife 
solely  upon  the  ground  of  your  unfruitful  mar- 
riage. It  is  true  that  under  the  laws  of  the 
State,  that  is  a  legal  plea,  but  why  base  your 
contention  upon  that  ground,  when  her  con- 


THE  JUDGMENT  151 

nection  with  DeWitte  gives  you  another,  which 
makes  it  easier.  It  is  common  talk,  and  you 
should  not  have  to  bear  the  blame  that  will  be 
visited  upon  you  for  putting  her  aside  because 
she  is  childless,  while  she  sits  back  in  scornful 
assumption  of  virtue  and  goes  unpunished  for 
her  insults  to  both  of  us.  For  you  her  face  is 
filled  with  detestation,  scorn  and  loathing.  For 
DeWitte,  she  is  all  smiles  and  gladness.  In 
your  suit  for  divorce  they  should  both  be  ex- 
posed to  the  fullest  extent,  and  by  so  doing  you 
will  have  the  approval  of  at  least  all  those  whose 
friendship  is  worth  having.  I  am  glad  to  say 
that  Van  B.  has  gone  and  gone  forever,  and 
when  you  are  free  from  your  burden  as  I  am 
now  from  mine,  we  will  grasp  the  happiness  so 
long  delayed.  I  am  as  always,  your  devoted 

"Louise." 

She  read  it  to  the  end,  and  so  quiet  had  she 
become,  that  her  mother  ceased  her  sobbing  to 
look  at  her.  Then,  too  exasperated  to  wait 
longer,  she  cried  out:  "Well,  what  have  you  to 
say?"  Eleanor  turned  to  look  at  her,  and  the 
selfish  woman  fairly  gasped  in  sudden  amaze- 
ment at  the  blaze  of  indignation  enveloping  her 
daughter's  face. 

"Where  did  you  get  this  thing?"  she  de- 
manded in  a  tone  that  cut  like  steel. 


152  THE  JUDGMENT 

"He  dropped  it.'* 

"And  you  read  it?" 

"Of  course,  I  read  it.  Do  not  blame  me  for 
my  solicitude  for  you.  Oh !  that  awful  divorce. 
You  have  ruined  us  both,  we  will  be  disgraced, 
cast  out— friendless.  His  money  will  save 
him,  and  we  must  creep  off  in  shame,  your  po- 
sition gone,  and  your  character  ruined.  Tell 
me,  Eleanor !  Tell  me,  is  it  true — is  there  any- 
thing of  this  dreadful  talk  about  you  and  De- 
Witte?  If  you  love  him,  say  so,  and  we  will 
appeal  to  him  to  save  us.  Perhaps  he  might 
marry  you.  Perhaps — "  But  she  was  silenced 
by  the  imperious  anger  of  the  woman  confront- 
ing her.  * '  Stop !  I  command  you.  I  will  not 
be  insulted  so.  My  God!  and  even  you,  my 
mother,  can  believe  these  shameless  lies.  Oh, 
this  hollow  mockery  of  decency  with  which  I 
imagined  I  had  cloaked  myself,  has  fallen  apart 
and  leaves  me  bare  and  shamed— if  I  were  a 
courtesan  of  the  deepest  dye,  I  could  not  despise 
myself  more  than  for  being  what  I  have  been— 
wife  to  this  devil  who  calls  himself  man — joint 
owner  of  him  with  that  abandoned  woman. 
Lash  me,  oh,  God !  Scourge  me,  for  I  married 
him,  I  lived  with  him,  I  was  his  wife,  and  I  de- 
serve my  hell." 

•  •  •  •  » 

Why  is  it  that  we  seek  the  theatre?    Is  it  to 


THE  JUDGMENT  153 

see  whom  else  may  be  there,  to  search  the  boxes, 
and  note  that  our  neighbor's  wife  and  her 
friend's  husband  have  found  it  a  convenient 
meeting  place,  to  observe  the  magnificence  of 
the  new  people  whose  recent  wild  ride  upon  the 
steed  of  finance  down  the  race-course  of  chance 
has  won  for  them  a  glittering  prize,  or  is  it 
possible  that  we  in  reality  enjoy  the  play,  and 
intend  to  sit  throughout  the  performance,  in- 
terested listeners  to  new  renditions  of  that  un- 
mending  theme,  upon  which  half  the  comedies 
and  more  than  half  the  tragedies  of  life  are 
founded;  human  love,  its  frailties,  its  vicissi- 
tudes, and  its  consequences? 

The  Manning  box  was  filled,  as  were  most  of 
the  others.  The  scene  was  almost  like  a  gala 
night  at  the  opera  for  all  round  the  glittering 
horseshoe  the  parterre  boxes  were  filled  with  a 
brilliant  throng  glistening  with  jewels,  happy 
or  seeming  to  be,  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  social 
and  financial  pre-eminence.  Maude  and  Eva 
Manning  sat  at  one  end  of  the  box,  while  Mrs. 
Howard  and  Eleanor  occupied  the  other  end. 
There  was  a  space  between  where  Manning  us- 
ually sat,  but  this  night  he  was  absent. 

During  the  intermission  of  the  play,  the  Man- 
ning sisters  were  happy  in  the  visits  of  the  men 
who  came  and  went  from  box  to  box. 

Mrs.  Howard  was  visibly  making  an  attempt 


154  THE  JUDGMENT 

to  appear  natural,  but  Eleanor  made  no  such 
effort.  Occupied  with  her  own  thoughts,  she 
made  a  striking  figure  of  cold  disdain  and  aloof- 
ness, vouchsafing  but  the  barest  civilities  to 
those  surrounding  her.  Oblivious  to  the  gay 
scene,  her  thoughts  centered  themselves  upon 
her  suffering,  which  would  not  be  banished. 
Over  and  over  in  memory  she  rehearsed  the 
scenes  of  her  past  years.  After  consciousness 
returned  to  her  yesterday,  with  its  load  of  in- 
sults, ignominy  and  failure,  and  its  crowning 
indignity,  the  recollection  of  the  letter  exposing 
the  plan  to  befoul  her  reputation,  defame  her 
character,  and  thrust  her  out  among  men 
branded  with  an  unjust  infamy;  she  demanded 
an  interview  with  her  husband,  and  showing 
the  letter,  awaited  his  speech.  In  his  surprise, 
it  was  slow  in  coming.  She  had  forestalled 
him,  and  he  knew  not  what  to  say.  While  she 
waited  for  him  to  break  the  uncomfortable  si- 
lence, he  stammered:  "Well,  well,  you  surely 
are  not  surprised,"  then  as  she  still  made  no 
reply,  he  went  on:  "Your  extreme  coldness  has 
convinced  me  that  this  course  would  tend  to 
your  happiness  also."  Still  silence— then — 
"You  hardly  expect  me  to  believe  that  you  love 
me  or  object  to  my  proposed  course,  do  you?" 
At  the  direct  question,  and  the  assured  inso- 
lence that  crept  back  to  his  voice,  Eleanor  lost 


THE  JUDGMENT  155 

her  control  and  turned  to  him  in  fury.  "Care 
for  you! — I! — "  and  the  scorn  should  have 
killed  him.  "It  is  not  a  matter  of  that,  but  I 
have  sent  for  you  to  say  that  when  once  you 
dare  lay  your  defiling  touch  on  my  reputation, 
once  insinuate  a  breath  of  your  lying  scandal 
concerning  me— that  day  you  die;  for  if  no 
other  means  avail  me,  I  will  kill  you  with  my 
naked  hands.  Your  brutality,  and  the  hate  I 
feel  will  make  me  strong  enough  to  do  it.  To 
make  of  you  in  reality,  what  in  my  esteem  you 
already  are — carrion." 

Angry  at  himself  for  being  intimidated,  yet 
unable  to  cope  with  her  in  this  new  guise, 
Manning  sought  his  mother-in-law,  where  he 
found  a  very  different  kind  of  woman.  She, 
too,  was  angry,  but  her  wrath  was  of  a  meaner 
sort,  and  she  was  willing  to  accept  whatever 
excuse  gave  promise  of  personal  comfort.  Her 
self  interest  made  her  listen  to  Manning's 
argument  and  she  became  his  strongest  support. 
It  was  agreed  between  them  that  no  divorce 
proceedings  would  be  instituted,  if  Eleanor 
would  surrender  herself,  her  individuality  and 
her  soul.  True,  this  was  not  what  they  said, 
when  they  declared  that  wifely  obedience  was 
all  that  would  be  asked,  and  that  in  return  she 
might  remain  in  possession  of  the  position  he 
had  given  her. 


156  THE  JUDGMENT 

1  'But  you  can  tell  her,"  he  snarled,  "that 
unless  she  does  come  under,  unless  she  does 
agree  that  henceforth  I  am  master  in  this  house, 
I  swear  to  ruin  her — I  can  and  by  God !  I  will, 
if  I  die  for  it — and  turn  her  out  penniless  and 
disgraced — you  will  tell  her?"  and  his  black 
eyes  glared. 

"Yes,  yes,  William,  I  will  tell  her  all.  She 
must  and  will  do  as  you  say,  but  let  me  make 
peace  between  you.  I  can  convince  Eleanor; 
I  will  tell  her  she  is  wrong,  but  can't  you  try 
to  be  a  little  more  tender  and  forgiving?  You 
do  not  understand  her  impulsive  nature.  A 
jealous  woman  will  say  many  untrue  and  un- 
wise things.  She  has  suffered  greatly  over 
your  attention  to  others,  and  you  should  make 
some  allowance  for  what  she  says;"  and  Mrs. 
Howard  found  refuge  in  her  ancient  defense  of 
tears  and  long  drawn  sighs. 

All  this,  and  more  was  told  to  Eleanor  by  her 
mother,  and  it  came  back  to  her  mind,  as  she 
sat  in  the  theatre  box. 

The  lines  of  the  play  seemed  half  meaning- 
less to  her,  though  to  force  back  into  forgetful- 
ness  her  own  wretchedness,  she  tried  again  and 
again  to  concentrate  her  mind  upon  them.  The 
play  was:  "All's  Well  That  Ends  Well." 
Bertram's  cruel  letter  had  just  reached  Hel- 
ena, and  the  woe  upon  the  actress'  face  struck 


THE  JUDGMENT  157 

an  answering  chord  of  sympathy  in  Eleanor's 
heart,  and  she  began  to  listen. 

At  first,  the  repulsed  forsaken  wife  was  filled 
with  anguish,  but  there  came  a  time  when  her 
great  love  set  about  to  find  the  way  to  fulfill  the 
conditions  stated  in  the  letter.  She  found  that 
way,  as  readers  know,  and  with  their  child  upon 
her  breast,  brought  to  her  feet  the  truant  hus- 
band. 

How  strange  a  theme,  and  why  should  it 
cling?  "Father  to  an  unknown  woman's  child! 
'Twas  done  in  Helena's  time!"  Eound  and 
round,  the  thought  revolved  in  her  tortured 
brain,  until  at  last  the  hopelessness  of  her 
situation  shut  out  her  finer  thoughts,  and  made 
her  forget  her  girlhood  traditions  of  love  and 
honor  for  honor's  sake. 

She  realized  that  it  was  as  her  mother  had 
said.  The  stony  bitter-sweet  path  of  mother- 
hood now  held  out  to  her  the  only  road  to 
safety. 

"If  you  but  had  a  child!"  her  mother's 
wailing  voice  repeated,  and  the  complaining 
tones  came  back  again  in  persistent  echoes. 
"/  will"— she  thought — "one  might  as  well. 
My  daily  life  with  him  is  worse  than  this— it  is 
the  only  way.  They  shall  not  push  me  down 
into  the  whirlpools  of  obloquy,  and  since  by 
legal  means  escape  evades  me,  tied  as  I  am  to 


158  THE  JUDGMENT 

this  physical  fragment  of  a  man — I  willy  I  say — 
I  will  escape — some  other  way." 

The  next  day  Dr.  Bryan  was  sitting  in  his 
cozy  library  when  she  entered. 

"Ah!  little  girl,  this  is  a  treat.  How  glad 
I  am  to  see  you,"  but  he  quickly  stopped  at 
what  he  saw  on  Eleanor's  face.  "What  is  it?" 
he  asked,  his  voice  losing  its  cheerful  tone. 
Then  Eleanor  told  her  story— of  the  wrongs 
and  cruelties ;  the  hideous  truths  which  her  lips 
had  until  now  withheld ;  then  of  the  letter,  and 
the  dastardly  plan  to  defame  her.  The  old  man 
bowed  his  white  head  as  she  proceeded,  till  the 
cold  voice  suddenly  lost  its  tone  of  lifelessness, 
and  strong  and  passionately  she  cried:  "I  am 
determined  to  submit  no  more;  I  have  decided 
to  protect  myself." 

"Then  you  will  file  a  conntersuit?"  he  lifted 
his  head  to  say. 

"No,  and  neither  shall  they  drag  me  through 
the  courts,  defaming  me.  It  is  the  woman  who 
always  suffers;  once  divorced,  the  world  de- 
clares her  black  as  pitch,  and  I  will  not  be  di- 
vorced. I  have  paid  my  price,  and  I  will  pro- 
tect myself  at  any  cost,  but  in  another  way. 
Manning  craves  a  child ;  for  this  he  would  crawl 
in  the  dust  at  my  feet.  I  have  resolved  to  have 
one,  and  I  have  come  to  you,  my  old  friend,  for 
advice." 


THE  JUDGMENT  159 

Dr.  Bryan  looked  up  in  quick  amazement. 
"Eleanor!"  lie  gasped,  "You!  He!" 

Eleanor  laughed,  and  the  laughter  made  him 
shudder. 

His  head  fell,  this  time  to  the  table.  "Poor 
child!"  he  groaned.  "Poor  deluded  child,  you 
don't  know!" 

Eleanor  looked  at  him,  for  a  moment  her  face 
distorted  with  pain,  but  she  shook  it  off,  and 
laughed  again.  "Don't!  Eleanor,  don't  laugh 
like  that,  you  kill  me ! "  the  old  man  begged. 

"Listen  to  me,"  she  continued.  "I  am  not 
the  child  you  think  me.  I  know  what  you 
mean,  but  I  am  determined." 

When  she  told  him  her  plan  gleaned  from  the 
play,  the  old  man  groaned  aloud:  "My  God! 
My  God!"  Eleanor  continued:  "As  my  only 
friend  I  have  come  to  you.  I  am  trusting  you 
with  more  than  life.  If  you  refuse  to  help  me, 
you  drive  me  to  another,  who  may  not  protect 
me.  Think  well  before  you  deny  me,  for  in 
God's  presence  I  swear  to  do  this  thing; 
with  your  help,  if  I  may,  without  it,  if  I  must. ' ' 

Silence  fell  upon  them  both.  The  old  man's 
head  was  bowed;  his  frame  was  shaking  with 
his  sobs.  Over  the  heart  of  each  was  black  de- 
spair, for  the  old  man  knew  her  determination 
was  unchangeable,  and  Eleanor  had  decided 
upon  her  course. 


160  THE  JUDGMENT 

At  last  he  raised  his  drawn  face,  hoping  to 
see  a  sign  of  faltering,  but  her  face  was  hard, 
determined,  and  rigidly  set ;  her  eyes  met  his  in 
a  way  that  told  him  plainly  the  hopelessness 
of  opposition. 

When  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  hoarse  whisper: 
"If  this  is  your  final  determination,  I  shall 
not  fail  you  now." 

".Then  do  not  delay,"  she  answered. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  next  morning  Kobert  Van  Arsdale  and 
Gordon-Leigh  were  standing  on  the  clubhouse 
steps  when  an  old  man  passed  by,  his  hat  pulled 
over  his  eyes,  despondency  and  distress  visible 
in  his  gait  and  bearing.  Something  familiar 
caused  the  two  men  to  look  at  him  again.  He 
did  not  speak  nor  even  glance  at  them,  but  at 
the  second  look,  they  turned  to  each  other  in  as- 
tonishment. Van  Arsdale  cried:  "Dr.  Bryan! 
By  all  that's  great.  What  on  earth  can  it 
mean  ?  He  looks  dreadful.  I  wonder  what  has 
happened  I" 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  old  doctor?" 
asked  DeWitte,  joining  them  from  the  street. 
"I  passed  him  just  now,  and  I  declare  I  hardly 
knew  him,  he  looked  so  sad  and  broken.  Have 
you  heard  of  any  bad  news  concerning  him?" 
None  of  them  knew  the  grief  eating  its  way 
into  the  old  man's  heart ;  the  bitter  secret  which 
bowed  his  head,  and  lined  his  face. 

The  long  night  gave  him  no  rest.  His  letter 
of  imploring  protest  to  Eleanor  brought  only 
this  answer :  "  I  have  decided ;  it  is  the  only  way 
of  escape.  I  must  have  your  help ;  do  not  com- 

161 


162  THE  JUDGMENT 

pel  me  to  seek  it  elsewhere. "  Pacing  the  floor 
in  mental  agony,  helpless  to  liberate  her  from 
her  cruel  surroundings,  and  most  of  all,  to  de- 
liver her  from  the  enemy  she  had  become  to 
herself,  he  cried  out  in  anguish  of  spirit:  "Poor 
child,  poor  child;  they  have  ruined  your  life, 
and  now  shall  I  help  you  to  blacken  your  soul ! 
Oh,  my  God!  that  I  should  be  forced  to  this! 
That  I  must  be  the  one  to  whom  she  comes  with 
such  a  plea!  Must  I?  Do  I  dare  refuse? 
If  I  do,  I  only  send  her  to  someone  who  may 
betray  her,  and  spread  abroad  her  shame.  Is 
this  a  greater  sin  than  her  life  with  Manning? 
How  can  I  answer?  I  am  not  God,  I  cannot 
judge.  He  must  do  that.  In  her  mother's  hell- 
ish barter  for  money,  the  daughter  has  been 
lost.  Shall  I  refuse  to  her  the  aid  she  asks  of 
me?  They  have  ruined  her  life,  but  if  I  can,  I 
must  cover  that  ruin,  and  save  her  reputation. 
That  perhaps  I  still  may  do.  But,  oh,  Howard ! 
Know  with  what  grief  I  do  this  thing.  How 
my  heart  bleeds,  my  soul  sickens  at  the  ruin 
that  is  wrought.  Believe  me,  dear  dead  friend, 
and  understand — and  oh,  God!  support  me 
through  this  awful  time." 

In  the  end  a  dim  light  broke  its  way  through 
the  torturing  doubts  that  filled  the  old  man's 
heart,  leading  him  to  a  decision  and  a  plan. 

"John,"  said  Dr.  Bryan  to  his  faithful  old 


THE  JUDGMENT  163 

servant,  brought  with  him  from  North  Caro- 
lina, "Hal  Gregory,  a  young  gentleman  from 
North  Carolina,  will  arrive  this  evening.  Be  on 
the  lookout  for  him,  and  see  that  he  gets  the 
very  best  there  is  in  the  house,  for  we  must  try 
to  make  his  visit  pleasant." 

"Yes,  sah;  certainly,  sah.  Yo'  say  he  is 
from  Norf  Ca'lina?" 

"Yes,  from  Kaleigh;  you  know  his  family. 
When  we  left  there  they  lived  across  the  street 
from  us.  His  family  are  among  my  early  boy- 
hood friends— as  good  friends  as  I  ever  had,  as 
good  as  any  man  need  want.  When  my  wife 
was  dying,  this  boy's  mother  watched  over  and 
cared  for  her,  and  when  all  was  over,  spoke 
words  of  comfort  to  me.  Do  your  best  for  Mm, 
John." 

"Yes,  sah,  I  will,  sah." 

And  later  John  grinned  his  broadest  welcome 
to  the  young  man,  as  he  ushered  him  into  the 
room  already  prepared  for  him. 

' '  'Member  you !  Yes,  sah,  I  does !  I  'mem- 
bers yo '  pa  and  yo '  ma,  yes,  sah !  I  'members 
'em  all.  Yo'  wa'n't  nuthin  but  a  little  tow- 
headed  young  un  when  me  and  the  Doctah  lef 
Raleigh;  but  we  an'  never  forgot  de  Souf ;  and 
we  ain'  never  felt  much  at  home  up  heah.  We 
lubs  the  Souf  yit,  and  allus  will;  but  when  de 
Doctah  los'  his  wife,  he  couldn'  stan'  it  no  mo' 


164  THE  JUDGMENT 

dar,  and  we  had  to  leab.  Bi'  now  a  mockin 
bird  a  singin'  gibs  him  de  blues;  and  honey- 
suckle, Oh,  Lawd !  he  caint  stan'  it  yit.  But  we 
sho  is  glad  to  see  you,  sah,  we  sho  is!"  and 
John  hastened  to  tell  the  other  servants  the 
news  of  the  young  man's  arrival. 

"Caint  you  see  he's  frum  the  Souf?"  he 
asked  of  Lizzie,  the  housemaid.  "Jes'  look 
how  he  walks;  'tain  no  common  folks  es  kin 
walk  laik  dat.  No'n  deed;  he's  quality.  Me 
an  de  Doctah,  we's  knowed  his  folks  since  fo 
de  wah.  We  libbed  at  Ealeigh  whur  he  libs 
yit,  and  tain'  no  new  fokes  bout  him.  Git  out 
de  way,  gal;  lem'  me  watch  'em  pass  out  de  do. 
My!  it  looks  laik  de  ole  times,"  and  John's  eyes 
grew  misty. 

At  the  club,  Dr.  Bryan's  handsome  young- 
friend  attracted  more  than  passing  notice.  His 
tall,  finely  proportioned  figure,  his  handsome 
face,  his  polished  manner  and  refined  bearing 
set  him  apart  from  most  of  the  men  gathered 
there. 

"Haughty  looking  fellow,"  remarked  Van 
Arsdale.  "Wonder  who  he  is?" 

"Southerner,  I  guess,"  Gordon-Leigh  an- 
swered. "I  heard  the  old  doctor  say  he  was  the 
son  of  one  of  his  boyhood  friends.  That  ac- 
counts for  the  old  man's  paternal  air.  One 
look  at  them  is  enough  to  know  that  they  feel 


THE  JUDGMENT  165 

their  superiority;  just  a  little  too  darned  aris- 
tocratic to  suit  me." 

But  even  his  prejudice  began  to  fade  away 
under  the  charm  of  the  young  stranger's  man- 
ner. "Deuced  pleasant  fellow,  after  all,"  he 
admitted  half  sheepishly  to  Van  Arsdale,  as 
Dr.  Bryan  and  his  young  friend  left  them  that 
night. 

It  was  a  hard  situation  for  the  old  man,  and 
he  cudgeled  his  brains  with  painful  care  to  pave 
the  way  for  the  talk  he  had  prepared. 

After  all,  it  was  not  very  adroitly  put,  and 
his  young  friend  turned  to  him  in  astonish- 
ment: 

1  'Why,  Dr.  Bryan!  It  is  simply  out  of  the 
question!  No  one  ever  heard  of  such  an  ab- 
normal situation." 

The  conversation  that  ensued  was  long  and 
earnest,  for  the  young  man  was  hard  to  con- 
vince, but  the  old  man  was  determined  that  his 
plan  once  entered  into,  should  be  carried  out. 

With  tearful  eyes  and  a  broken  voice,  he 
pictured  a  beautiful  heart-broken  woman,  her 
innocent  childhood,  the  death  of  her  father,  her 
promise  to  care  for  her  mother,  that  mother's 
unreasonable  demands,  ending  in  marriage  to  a 
man  she  loathed  and  hated,  believing  it  the 
only  way  to  save  her  mother's  life;  his  insane 
desire  for  an  heir,  his  impotence  added  to  his 


166  THE  JUDGMENT 

cruelty  and  inhuman  treatment,  his  unfaithful- 
ness, and  finally,  the  plot  to  ruin  and  disgrace 
her  by  dragging  her  into  a  scandalous  divorce 
proceeding,  and  her  appeal  to  him  for  help  as 
her  only  friend  and  the  friend  of  her  father, 
his  best  and  boyhood  friend.  Her  determina- 
tion to  take  the  course  suggested  as  her  only 
way  of  escape,  his  utter  failure  to  dissuade  her, 
and  finally,  the  dire  consequences  that  would 
befall  the  woman,  who  as  a  child,  he  loved  as 
his  own ;  his  promise  to  help  her,  and  his  dread- 
ful disappointment  if  he  now  failed  her. 

' '  I  can 't  yet  view  it  as  you  do,  but  for  your 
sake  I  agree.  The  situation  is  certainly  a 
novel  one,  and  I  like  adventure. " 

The  doctor  led  his  guest  into  a  room  and  shut 
the  door.  In  the  darkness,  Gregory  felt  the 
old  man's  trembling  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"Kem ember,  boy,  for  God's  sake,  remember, 
you  have  sworn  not  to  attempt  to  fathom  her 
identity.  I  swear  she  is  a  good  woman — or 
was,  before  she  married  this  reptile,  who  with 
his  tribe,  has  ruined  her." 

He  flashed  on  a  light,  and  pointed  to  a  heavy 
hanging  on  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"The  door  is  behind,"  he  whispered,  as  he 
turned  off  the  switch  again.  "There  is  no 
light — it  is  sunk  in  the  mystery  of  a  darkness 
you  must  not  dispel — but  she  is  there." 


THE  JUDGMENT  167 

Gregory  strode  across  the  room.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  hesitated.  Then  the  old  man,  waiting, 
heard  the  swish  of  the  lifted  curtain,  and  the 
soft  closing  of  the  inner-door. 

"My  God!  My  God!"  he  groaned,  as  he  stole 
away.  "My  God!  oh,  my  God!"  and  he  sunk 
into  a  chair. 

He  groaned  aloud:  "Why  did  I  consent? 
Why  did  I?"  His  stifling  grief  oppressed  and 
burdened  his  heart  almost  to  the  breaking 
point,  as  he  cursed  his  weakness  when  he  yielded 
to  her. 

He  did  not  know  how  much  later  it  was,  when 
a  hand  on  his  arm  aroused  him,  and  he  raised 
a  haggard  drawn  face  to  the  man  above  him. 
* '  Damn  it,  sir,  thia  is  an  awful  thing.  I  regret 
most  sincerely  that  I  came  here.  She— by  the 
Lord,  sir,  you  have  deceived  me."  For  sud- 
denly a  conscience  had  cried  aloud,  and  to  si- 
lence its  clamor  the  owner  turned  to  the  bent 
figure  of  the  old  man,  and  spoke  in  tones,  where 
resentment  fought  with  censure:  "I  thought 
from  what  you  said,  sir,  that  she  could  not  be 
a  lady.  You  have  deceived  me,  sir,  I  say,  and  I 
demand  some  explanation  of  this  mystery." 

The  old  man  jumped  to  his  feet  at  these 
words.  ' '  Hush,  boy,  hush !  Come  out  of  here ! 
You  don't  know  what  you  say;  come  out;  my 
God !  come,  come ! ' '  and  they  left  the  ante-room ; 


168  THE  JUDGMENT 

the  old  man  now  the  more  alert  and  active ;  the 
other  angered  and  sullen. 

Tossing  on  his  restless  pillow,  Gregory  found 
no  rest  that  night.  Self  condemnation  and  bit- 
ter blame  of  the  old  doctor  surged  through  his 
mind  in  the  long,  dark  hours:  "Those  heart- 
breaking sobs ! "  he  murmured.  ' '  God  1  I  shall 
never  forgive  myself!" 

Dr.  Bryan's  will  had  never  shown  itself  so 
strong  as  in  his  vehement  refusal  to  his  young 
friend's  pleadings:  " Never,  sir,  never!  Re- 
member your  promise." 

"Damn  my  promise,  sir!  How  could  I 
know  that  she  was  this  kind  of  woman?  How 
could  I  believe  she  was  all  right?  Lord,  sir! 
You  don't  understand!  You  must  tell  me.  I 
must  know." 

"You  never  shall,  my  boy,  I  promise  you.  I 
would  not  tell  you  for  my  life  or  yours.  Not 
for  her  own.  Do  you  think  I  am  not  suffering? 
Then  you  do  not  know.  I  shall  never  cease  to 
condemn  my  part  in  this,  or  to  bewail  my  weak- 
ness in  giving  my  consent.  Do  not  ask  me  to 
complete  the  ruin  we  have  so  nearly  made.  By 
God,  sir,  you  do  not  know  me.  The  only  thing 
I  can  do  now,  is  to  protect  her  name,  and  while 
I  have  breath,  that  I  will  do.  Rage  as  you 
please,  you  are  the  one  of  the  three  to  suffer 
least.  We,  she  and  I,  can  never  recover  what 


THE  JUDGMENT  169 

we  have  lost.  You  will  forget  it  soon,  and  class 
it  in  your  mind  among  your  gay  wild  oats,  but 
it  is  not  so  with  us;  ah,  no,  I  will  never  tell 
you." 

"Then,  sir,  I  go,  but  remember  this,  since 
you  refuse  me,  I'll  find  that  woman  without 
your  help. ' '  The  old  man  tried  to  stop  him,  but 
the  young  one  threw  out  a  restraining  arm,  his 
angry  attitude  expressing  his  defiance.  "Tell 
her  this  for  me:  She  lives  somewhere  in  the 
world,  and  so  do  I,  and  as  long  as  I  live,  I  am 
searching  for  her.  You  cannot  prevent  me,  nor 
can  she;  as  you  have  brought  us  together  in 
your  damned  mysterious  way,  it  shall  be  my 
task  to  find  her ;  and  when  I  find  her — tell  her 
this— when  I  find  her,  if  she  is  what  I  believe 
that  she  may  be,  then  she  is  mine." 


"EvA,  I  can't  understand  Eleanor;  there  is 
something  on  her  mind  and  it  promises  no 
good  for  us.  Have  you  noticed  her  peculiar 
manner  lately?"  asked  Maude,  coming  into 
Eva's  room  one  night. 

Eva,  combing  her  colorless  hair,  halted  with 
her  arm  upraised.  "The  very  thing  Aunt 
Norton  said  to-day!  What  can  it  be?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  whatever  it  is,  it  means 
ill  luck  to  us.  "When  did  Aunt  Norton  first 
notice  it?" 

"She  said  that  for  several  weeks  she  had 
seen  it  coming  on,  in  fact  almost  ever  since  the 
scene  over  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk's  letter." 

"That  turned  out  badly  enough,  and  just 
when  it  seemed  to  promise  so  well,"  resumed 
Maude.  "I  could  wring  old  Mrs.  Howard's 
neck.  If  it  had  not  been  for  her,  William  would 
never  have  made  peace  with  Eleanor,  after  the 
awful  way  in  which  she  talked  to  him.  That 
was  indeed  a  scene  to  remember!  How  Wil- 
liam cowered  before  her  when  she  said :  '  I  will 
kill  you  with  my  naked  hands ' ;  his  knees  shook 

1TO 


THE  JUDGMENT  171 

so  lie  could  hardly  stand.  I  believe  he  thought 
she  intended  to  do  it  right  then." 

"Well,  I  did,  too.  I  never  was  so  frightened 
in  my  life,"  declared  Eva.  "I  sincerely  wish 
she  had,  and  then  since  they  have  no  children, 
we  would  have  gotten  more  than  we  are  ever 
likely  to  have  while  "William  lives." 

A  few  days  later,  Manning  rushed  into  the 
house  in  a  rhapsody  of  joy.  He  had  just  come 
from  Dr.  Bryan,  and  sought  his  wife,  almost 
frenzied  with  delight,  capering  round  her  like 
an  enraptured  sparrow.  "My  darling  wife,  I 
am  so  happy,  so  happy,"  he  reiterated.  Intent 
upon  his  own  extravagant  pleasure,  he  did  not 
notice  the  utter  lack  of  responsiveness  in  her, 
for  his  mind  was  filled  with  joy  at  his  dis- 
covery. "A  son!  It  must  be  a  son,"  he  cried 
over  and  over  to  himself  and  to  her. 

A  spasm  clouded  Eleanor's  pale  face,  which 
even  her  strong  will  could  not  entirely  conquer. 
"My  precious  angel,  you  are  ill.  Call  the 
maid;  send  for  the  doctor!  She  must  not  be 
sick!  oh,  no,  I  could  not  stand  it  now.  She 
must  be  well;  she  must  be  happy!  somebody 
go;  don't  stand  there  like  a  damned  idiot, 
James,"  raging  at  the  hurrying  servant. 
"Madame  is  ill!  For  God's  sake  send  for  the 
doctor!  Go,  you  fool!"  and  he  pranced  more 
wildly  in  his  anxiety  than  in  his  joy. 


172  THE  JUDGMENT 

Eleanor  interrupted  him:  "No,  no,  I  am  not 
ill.  Do  not  send  for  Dr.  Bryan.  It  was  only 
a  momentary  pain." 

"But,  my  darling,  you  must  not  have  a  mo- 
mentary pain.  You  must  be  happy,  and  well. 
No,  we  must  have  the  doctor,  my  angel.  Go, 
James."  But  at  the  strange  note  in  Eleanor's 
voice  repeating:  "No,  I  will  not  have  him.  I 
do  not  want  him.  I  will  not  see  him," 
while  the  blood  rushed  to  her  face,  and 
crimsoned  its  surface,  lately  so  pale,  Man- 
ning terrified  at  her  excitement,  hastened 
to  change  the  order  and  to  assure  her:  "Then 
you  shall  not,  my  darling,  you  shall  do  just  as 
you  like  in  everything.  Oh,  yes,  you  shall  have 
your  own  way.  No  queen  ever  had  more  will- 
ing service  than  shall  be  yours  from  this  day. 
My;  darling  girl,  my  precious  wife,  my  dearest 
angel,"  and  he  murmured  on  in  unintelligent 
rhapsodies. 

When  Mrs.  Norton  entered  their  sitting- 
room,  her  nieces  rose  in  unison.  Maude's  face 
was  filled  with  anger,  and  her  black  eyes  shone 
wickedly.  Her  sister's  face  was  bathed  with 
tears,  her  swollen  eyes  and  reddened  nose  vying 
with  each  other  in  point  of  color. 

"Girls,  girls,  this  is  awful!"  gasped  the 
astonished  old  woman,  hardly  able  to  speak  for 
rage.  At  the  sight  of  her,  Maude's  anger  cul- 


THE  JUDGMENT  173 

minated  in  a  rush  of  tears  and  Eva's  ever  ready 
flood  broke  forth  anew. 

"I  could  kill  her!  I  could  kill  her!"  Maude 
stormed. 

Mrs.  Norton  looked  on  in  silence.  Chagrin 
and  anger  for  once  in  her  life  almost  silenced 
her  tongue. 

"Ola,  Aunt  Norton,  what  shall  we  do?'* 
wailed  Eva. 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  unless,  as  Maude  so 
often  suggests,  you  kill  her,"  her  aunt  an- 
swered, and  Eva,  taking  her  literally,  com- 
plained: "But  "William  is  going  to  send  us 
away.  He  says  the  sight  of  us  is  unpleasant 
to  her." 

"Just  think  of  being  sent  out  of  your 
father's  home  for  her!"  broke  in  Maude. 

"Did  he  speak  to  you,  Aunt  Norton?"  Eva 
asked. 

"Yes,  he  said  he'd  like  to  have  me  take  both 
of  you  to  live  with  me;  that  he  would  make  a 
very  liberal  allowance ;  but  when  I  told  him  that 
I  did  not  care  to  assume  a  task  he  himself  was 
tired  of,  he  coolly  said  that  he  would  send  for 
your  mother's  sister,  and  set  you  up  with  her. 
He  says  he  is  determined  that  you  shall  not 
stay  here  to  disturb  his  adored  wife.  Ha !  ha ! 
ha!"  and  her  laugh  was  worse  than  her  words. 

The  sisters  did  not  enjoy  their  aunt's  visit. 


174  THE  JUDGMENT 

Neither  her  manner  nor  her  words  poured  any 
oil  of  comfort  on  the  troubled  waters  of  their 
distress,  and  when  she  was  gone,  they  looked 
at  each  other  with  rekindled  animosity.  "Mean 
old  thing,  she  is  just  like  William.  They  both 
enjoy  our  grief  and  humiliation,"  they  cried. 
Eleanor  did  not  often  meet  them  in  the  re- 
maining few  days,  of  their  stay,  for  it  was  de- 
cided by  their  brother  that  they  go  to  their 
maternal  aunt  at  once.  When  money  speaks 
aloud,  material  things  are  quick  to  obey,  and 
within  a  week  the  new  home  was  ready,  and 
with  their  soft-spoken,  pale-faced  and  obedient 
widowed  aunt,  they  took  up  their  abode.  Mrs. 
Roberts  was  entirely  willing  to  assume  the  role 
of  chaperone  for  her  nieces  in  exchange  for  the 
liberal  allowance  so  unexpectedly  proposed  by 
her  hitherto  indifferent  nephew.  When  Man- 
ning told  his  sisters  of  his  plan  for  them,  and 
the  cause  of  it,  the  storm  of  their  surprised 
chagrin  an.d  anger  burst  on  his  head,  until  the 
glitter  came  to  his  eyes,  and  he  let  loose  on 
them  a  counter  storm  of  vituperation  and 
threats,  which  drove  them  dumb.  "Dare  to 
say  another  word, ' '  he  cried, ' '  and  I  swear  that 
I'll  never  give  you  another  penny.  You  know 
I  can  and  will  reduce  you  to  your  pitiful  an- 
nuity and  make  you  live  on  it  if  you  dare  to 
open  your  mouths  again."  His  wrath  silenced 


THE  JUDGMENT  175 

and  frightened  them  until  they  accepted  with 
a  pretense  of  willingness  the  terms  he  offered. 
After  their  departure,  the  stillness  of  the 
house  was  maddening  to  Eleanor's  over- 
wrought nerves,  but  this  was  not  so  bad  as  the 
delirium  of  her  husband's  joy.  In  her  extrem- 
ity of  nervousness,  he  learned  that  he  must 
curb  his  exhibitions  of  delight,  and  in  lieu  of 
that,  he  adopted  the  making  of  handsome  gifts 
as  a  demonstration  of  his  joy.  Exquisitely 
rare  jewels  filled  her  caskets;  costly  laces  ran 
riot  in  her  wardrobe,  and  as  a  last  proof,  he 
increased  her  jointure  to  an  independent  for- 
tune. But  none  of  these  things  brought  back 
the  sparkle  to  her  sad  eyes,  nor  filled  with  in- 
terest her  unmoved  face.  Colder  than  ever,  ap- 
parently more  unfeeling,  she  moved  among 
them  automaton  like,  as  if  oppressed  by  a 
deadly,  secret  woe ;  refusing  all  companionship, 
she  withdrew  herself,  until  those  who  watched 
her  awaited,  in  dread  suspense,  signs  of  a  men- 
tal collapse.  But  her  strong  will  did  not  desert 
her,  and  the  collapse  did  not  come.  The  far- 
away look  grew  and  deepened;  she  sat  for 
hours,  her  hands  idle  in  her  lap,  her  eyes  fixed 
in  an  unseeing  gaze  before  her.  Succeeding 
days  brought  no  relief  to  her  painful  lethargy 
until  Manning's  anxiety  amounted  almost  to 
madness.  All  his  attempts  at  tenderness  were 


176  THE  JUDGMENT 

met  by  the  same  repellent  coldness,  holding  him 
off  alarmed  and  frightened. 

"Do  not  distress  her.  Let  her  entirely 
alone.  It  will  all  come  right,"  Dr.  Bryan  in- 
sisted, but  to  Manning  each  day  was  an  increas- 
ing agony,  and  they  told  on  him  with  cruelty. 
One  day  as  Dr.  Bryan  was  leaving,  he  called 
him  into  the  study,  and  closed  the  door.  "I 
cannot  stand  it  any  longer,  Doctor,"  he  whis- 
pered, "I  could  not  bear  to  lose  her  now;  this 
strain  will  kill  me."  The  doctor  answered: 
"Wait  a  little  while;  a  change  is  coming  soon." 

One  night  Eleanor  woke  with  a  start.  In 
her  dream  a  tender  arm  was  round  her,  a  voice 
had  thrilled  her  soul.  "That  voice  again!" 
she  cried  in  anguish.  "0!  God,  send  me  mer- 
ciful oblivion— shut  my  ears  to  that  insistent 
sound.  Silence  that  voice,  0  God!  or  I  shall 
die.  I  cannot,  dare  not  listen.  It  racks  my 
soul;  it  tears  anew  my  aching  heart.  Dear 
God,  let  me  forget!"  and  she  tried  to  smother 
in  the  pillows  the  sound  of  her  sobs. 

Does  God  answer  prayers  when  He  some- 
times sends  us  anew  the  grief  from  which  we 
murmur!  To  Eleanor  this  answer  came. 

Beneath  her  starved  and  aching  heart  that 
never  yet  was  filled  with  joy,  it  began  to  thrill. 
In  her  stormy  grief  she  listened;  her  sobs 
ceased,  till  almost  afraid  to  breathe,  she  waited 


THE  JUDGMENT  177 

for  she  knew  not  what.  Slowly  it  came  again ; 
at  first,  merely  a  thrill,  half  pain,  half  joy;  then 
her  hand  sought  her  heart  in  painful  rapture 
at  the  now  fully  understood  message.  "Dear 
God!"  she  cried,  "I  understand." 

Months  later  all  was  excitement  in  the  Man- 
ning house.  "Doctor,  doctor,  stop!  I  beg  of 
you;  tell  me  quickly  how  she  is." 

"All  right,  Manning.  She's  all  right. 
Don't  be  uneasy,"  assured  Dr.  Bryan,  himself 
half  crazed  with  dread. 

Through  her  half  shut  door,  the  sound  of 
Mrs.  Howard's  weeping  could  be  heard.  "My 
poor  child,  she  will  die!  I  know  she  will  die; 
and  what  will  I  do?"  she  cried  over  and  over. 
As  Manning  entered  the  room,  she  dashed  to- 
ward him  and  caught  his  arm,  "Tell  me,  Wil- 
liam, how  is  she?  Is  she  dying?  Tell  me 
quickly.  Will  she  die?"  The  man  turned 
away;  "Don't  ask  me  that;  I  do  not  know,"  he 
sobbed  aloud. 

For  Eleanor  was  now  fighting  a  new  battle, 
and  as  always,  unaided.  Dauntless  and  brave, 
she  descended  into  the  shadows  of  the  yawn- 
ing chasms  of  death,  to  peer  therein,  and  find 
them  peopled  with  ugly  gruesome  flitting 
shapes  that  mocked  her  agony. 

The  hours  were  long;  the  night  seemed  like 
a  lifetime  filled  with  pain ;  but  after  all,  the  day 


178  THE  JUDGMENT 

came,  and  with  it  a  weak  little  cry  Heralding 
that  oft  repeated  mystery  of  life.  Louder  than 
the  hammers  beating  into  her  tortured  brain, 
she  heard  that  little  cry  and  forgot  all  else. 
''Ah!"  she  breathed,  in  a  long  drawn  sigh  of 
joy. 

Dr.  Bryan  came  toward  her,  and  as  he  bent 
above  her,  his  streaming  tears  fell  on  her  face : 
"Your  little  son,  Eleanor."  He  tried  to  con- 
quer his  shaking  voice,  and  laid  within  her  out- 
stretched, eager  arms,  a  sweet,  soft,  yielding 
bundle.  Then  God  opened  his  Heavenly  gates 
and  flooded  her  heart  with  joy,  engulfed  her, 
lifted  up,  and  bore  her  soul  aloft  in  bliss  most 
unalloyed.  "My  own,"  she  murmured,  "my 
dear,  my  own!"  and  tighter  held  the  little  bun- 
dle. It  moved  in  protest  at  the  too  close  em- 
brace, and  she  loosened  her  hold  to  look  within ; 
two  big,  round  wondering  eyes  met  hers  and 
then  and  there  with  strange,  new,  all-sufficing 
joy,  the  woman's  soul  was  born;  and  mother 
greeted  son. 

"May  I  come  in,  Doctor?"  a  hushed  but 
eager  voice  asked  at  Eleanor 's  door. 

The  old  man  looked  at  Eleanor,  but  she  was 
all  intent  upon  what  lay  within  the  hollow  of 
her  arm,  and  had  not  heard  the  question.  "It 
has  to  be,"  the  old  man  told  himself,  and  looked 
again  at  the  quiet  figure,  whose  shining  eyes  lit 


THE  JUDGMENT  179 

the  pale  face  with  the  radiance  of  mother  love 
that  had  stormed  and  captured  the  woman's 
heart. 

Again  the  whisper  came:  "Doctor,  let  me 
come  for  just  a  moment;  I  cannot  wait,"  and 
the  door  opened  silently,  admitting  a  softly 
stepping  figure. 

"What  will  she  do?"  the  old  man  breathed,  in 
dread  of  the  effect  on  Eleanor,  but  she  scarcely 
noticed  him.  Even  when  Manning  leaned 
above  the  baby  form,  his  breath  coming  quick- 
ly, his  face  twitching  and  pallid,  she  made  no 
sign. 

"Lift  him  up;  I  must  see  him,"  he  begged 
the  nurse.  But  when  she  bent  toward  the  child 
to  lift  him,  Eleanor  spoke:  "No—  I" 

Dr.  Bryan  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm  and 
stopped  the  words  before  she  uttered  them. 
"You  shall  have  him  again,  my  dear,"  and  he 
lifted  the  child  and  turned  to  Manning,  saying 
hurriedly : l '  They  are  all  that  way  at  first ;  they 
do  not  like  to  have  anyone  touch  the  little  fel- 
lows but  themselves." 

In  his  ecstasy,  Manning  forgot  his  wife's  for- 
bidding word  and  lifted  a  cautious,  outstretched 
finger  to  stroke  the  soft,  little,  rosy  face.  At 
the  touch,  the  baby  yelled  a  lusty,  loud  objec- 
tion, and  Eleanor  cried :  "Bring  him  back  to  me ; 
you  hurt  him. ' '  Though  disconcerted,  her  hus- 


180  THE  JUDGMENT 

band's  laugh  was  yet  a  happy  one.  The  little 
voice  had  thrilled  him  through  and  through. 
To  cover  his  nervousness  he  coughed,  and 
turned  to  Dr.  Bryan:  "Fine  little  chap,  Doctor, 
fine  little  chap.  I  intend  to  trade  you  that 
property  down  the  avenue  for  him." 

The  Doctor  forced  a  laugh:  "All  right,  and 
I'll  deed  it  hack  at  once  to  my  little  Godson,  for 
Eleanor  promises  me  this ;  and  also  that  I  name 
him." 

"Oh,  no,  no!  surely  I'll  do  that,"  Manning 
stammered,  but  Dr.  Bryan  laughed  again. 
"No,  she  and  I  for  that,  Manning;  his  name 
must  be  Joseph  Howard,  or  we'll  take  him 
right  away  from  you." 

Weak  with  happiness,  Manning  gave  in.  "All 
right,  Doctor,  anything  you  say;  just  give  me 
the  boy,  and  name  him  what  you  please.  Might 
I  kiss  Eleanor?" 

"If  she  says  so,"  the  old  man  mumbled  un- 
easily. Manning  bent  to  touch  her  forehead, 
but  she  did  not  move  her  head.  Her  eyes  again 
were  fixed  upon  the  wonderfully  little  atom 
that  was  filling  her  mind,  her  heart  and  her  life 
with  the  strange  new  joy  of  motherhood. 

Not  long  after,  a  crowd  of  men  were  standing 
on  the  clubhouse  steps.  ' '  By  George ! ' '  laughed 
Bobby  Van  Arsdale,  as  Manning  hurried  by 
them,  "you  have  deserted  us  lately." 


THE  JUDGMENT  181 

"Better  things  at  home,"  answered  Manning 
over  his  shoulder. 

"Funny  to  see  the  change  in  Manning,  isn't 
it!"  remarked  Hilbrandt.  "It  seems  to  be 
a  mighty  little  cause  for  such  great  effect." 

Van  Arsdale  laughed  again:  "Yes,  little,  but 
that  doesn't  count.  It  appears  that  in  one  gal- 
lant fight,  Sir  Knight,  the  Baby,  has  put  to 
rout  Manning's  entire  collection;  mistress, 
sisters  and  even  the  venomous  old  aunt  have  all 
gone  down  to  this  new  foe." 

The  men  listened  and  laughed,  and  one  said : 
"I  guess  Mrs.  Van  Buskirk  is  fixed  for  good. 
There's  hardly  any  prospect  for  her  to  climb 
the  social  ladder  on  Manning's  shoulders  now; 
you  remember  her  bold  assurance  at  the  last 
horse  show?  Pretty  hard  on  her  to  tumble 
down  so  far,  and  fall  so  hard,  isn't  it?" 

"Didn't  count  on  the  baby,  I  guess." 

"No,  not  she." 

"Well,  Manning  surely  counts  on  him  now," 
declared  Van  Arsdale.  "All  I  have  seen  of 
him  for  weeks  is  the  twinkle  of  his  shining  little 
feet  as  he  flies  down  the  stairs,  hurrying 
home." 

The  next  day  they  waylaid  him:  "How 
many  teeth,  Manning?"  "How  is  the  baby's 
papa?"  "What  is  good  for  colic,  Manning?" 
cried  a  chorus  of  three  voices. 


182  THE  JUDGMENT 

"That's  all  right,  boys,  laugh  all  you  like; 
you're  only  mad  because  you  haven't  one." 

"Me !  Oh,  Lord,  just  listen  to  him !  How  his 
morals  are  perverted!  Why  should  I  have 
one  I ' '  cried  Bobby,  retreating  from  him. 

They  all  joined  in  the  laugh  at  Bobby's  mock 
consternation,  but  Manning  was  too  much  in 
earnest  in  his  new  found  joy,  to  care  for  what 
they  said. 

Gordon-Leigh's  voice  hardly  concealed  his 
envy:  "Boys  beat  girls;  know  you're  glad,  old 
man." 

"Yes,  I  am,"  Manning  answered.  "You 
know  it's  the  rule  in  my  family  to  make  the  sons 
the  heirs,  and  I  wanted  my  name  to  go  down 
with  my  money. ' ' 

"By  the  way,  Manning,  I  hear  you've  already 
set  him  up,"  called  Van  Arsdale  across  the 
long  table. 

"Yes,  I'll  settle  enough  on  him  now,  so  that 
if  I  go  under  he  will  have  something  left,"  Man- 
ning replied. 

"Something  left!  Well,  I  should  say  so! 
He  made  a  new  will  and  settled  one  million  on 
his  wife  and  fifty  millions  on  the  baby.  I  guess 
there  would  be  something  left,"  Hilbrandt  told 
his  neighbor. 

"Phew!"  whistled  the  man,  "how  much  has 
he?" 


THE  JUDGMENT  183 

"So  much  that  he  doesn't  know  himself," 
Hilbrandt  answered,  "and  it's  a  positive  sin 
the  way  he  continues  to  make  it." 

"Lucky  dog,  I  should  say;  beautiful  wife, 
phenomenal  baby  and  too  much  money.  No 
wonder  he  hops  around  like  a  demented  black- 
bird. It  has  gone  to  his  head." 

One  day  Manning  laid  a  long,  thick  envelope 
on  the  table  at  Eleanor's  side:  "A  little  present 
for  you  and  the  baby,"  he  explained. 

She  was  holding  her  child  in  her  arms  watch- 
ing its  sleep,  with  eyes  that  never  tired  and  did 
not  open  the  paper. 

"It  is  my  will,"  he  said. 

"Yes?"  she  answered,  still  looking  at  the 
little  face. 

"Do  you  feel  no  interest?"  he  asked,  his  tone 
exhibiting  some  irritation. 

"Oh,  yes,  but  I  was  looking  at  him." 

"Well,  I'll  leave  it,  and  you  can  read  it  when 
you  please.  It  makes  you  both  very  rich." 

"Yes,"  she  answered  again,  but  still  she 
watched  the  child,  who  had  moved  in  his  sleep, 
and  thrown  out  one  pink  and  dimpled  hand  as 
if  clutching  at  an  unseen  phantom  form. 

Mrs.  Howard,  sitting  beside  the  fire,  looked 
up  at  Manning,  and  smiled :  * '  He  is  talking  with 
the  angels,  William.  Did  you  see  him  throw 
up  his  hands  as  if  to  catch  them,  and  smile  in 


184  THE  JUDGMENT 

his  sleep?  When  a  sleeping  baby  smiles,  old 
nurses  say  that  they  talk  to  angels." 

"Well,  I'd  a  lot  rather  he'd  talk  to  me,"  re- 
turned Manning,  gazing  down  on  him. 

Mrs.  Howard  laughed  again.  "I've  seen 
many  foolish  parents,  but  you  two  take  the  lead. 
You  have  almost  deserted  your  club,  your  busi- 
ness and  all  your  former  amusements,  while  as 
for  Eleanor,  she  can  scarcely  breathe  away  from 
the  baby's  side.  She  sends  the  nurse  away  at 
night,  and  has  him  sleep  in  her  own  bed,  which 
is  bad  for  both  herself  and  him.  You  see  how 
she  spends  the  days.  I  predict  that  before  long 
this  entire  household  will  have  become  nothing 
more  than  one  large  nursery,  while  everyone  in 
it  develops  into  another  servant  for  this  young 
tyrant."  Manning  frowned  at  her  words,  but 
Eleanor  only  smiled,  her  eyes  still  on  the  little 
face. 

Mrs.  Howard's  voice  grew  a  little  sharp: 
"It  is  nothing  short  of  foolishness  to  shut  our- 
selves up  in  this  way.  The  baby  will  last.  Why 
should  we  not  have  some  of  our  old  pleasures, 
as  we  did  before  he  came?"  and  she  looked  at 
her  audience.  Eleanor  still  smiled,  but  when 
she  saw  that  her  husband's  frown  had  deepened 
into  a  decided  scowl  at  her  mother 's  words,  she 
said:  "By  all  means,  mother,  go  where  and 
when  you  like.  As  for  me,  my  pleasure  is  here, 


THE  JUDGMENT  185 

and  I  have  had  it  too  short  a  time ;  it  is  too  new 
and  strange  to  leave  it  for  society  so  soon." 
Her  husband  here  joined  in :  "And  I  was  deuced 
tired  of  the  senseless  gabble  I  heard  everywhere 
before  we  had  him,  and  I'm  going  to  stay  about 
him  just  as  long  as  I  like.  Of  course,  though, 
as  Eleanor  says,  we  needn't  keep  you  at  home." 

"I  shall  go  out,  then,  as  before,  but  I  still 
think  it  very  silly  of  Eleanor.  No  one  does  it 
nowadays.  You'll  see  how  very  tired  she'll 
grow,"  Mrs.  Howard  prophesied. 

No  answer,  but  Eleanor's  quiet  smile,  as  she 
held  the  sleeping  child  a  little  closer  to  her. 
1  'Tired  of  you,  darling!"  she  whispered,  when 
they  left  her,  * '  tired  of  you ! ' '  and  she  laughed 
softly,  "of  you,  my  own,  my  heart  and  very 
life.  Ah,  no;  not  while  the  stars  wink  their 
secrets  to  us ;  the  moon  sheds  her  beams  in  sil- 
ver shafts  to  lighten  night's  darkness,  or  the 
glorious  old  sun  floods  our  daily  walk  with  radi- 
ance as  bright  as  our  love.  Tired,  oh,  no !  Not 
now,  that  life  has  grown  so  sweet ;  not  now,  that 
each  day  is  like  a  song  of  joy,  each  hour  a 
bright  gem  in  pleasure's  diadem.  As  well  tell 
the  dying  wanderer  to  thrust  away  the  cool 
water  of  life  from  his  parched  and  burning  lips, 
as  tell  me  to  leave  you,  my  little  one." 

The  next  day,  in  the  nursery,  Eleanor  waited 
while  the  nurse  prepared  her  son's  morning 


186  THE  JUDGMENT 

bath.  The  soft,  rubber  folding  bath  tub  was 
filled  with  foamy  sweet-scented  water.  The 
rosy,  little  child  was  enthroned  in  his  mother's 
arms,  waiting  for  the  dip  he  loved.  The  nurse 
hurried  about  collecting  and  laying  out  in  readi- 
ness the  dainty  little  garments,  the  powders  and 
soft,  small  brushes.  Everything  breathed  of 
sweetness,  but  to  Eleanor  none  of  it  was  half  so 
sweet  as  the  warm,  pink  body  of  the  little  child. 
She  held  it  close  to  her  face,  delighting  in  the 
satin  smoothness  of  the  baby  skin.  How  soft 
and  sweet  he  felt,  as  she  rubbed  her  face  against 
the  little  form.  The  child,  looking  at  her,  cooed 
his  pleasure.  She  caught  him  close ;  and  again, 
closer,  closer.  "0-h,  darling!  How  I  love 
you !  How  I  love  you ! ' '  her  voice  broke  in  half 
sobs  of  joy.  "Mine!  Mine!  All  mine!" 
Again  he  cooed.  Ah!  the  music  of  the  baby 
tones!  Tears  gathered  in  the  mother's  eyes 
as  she  held  him  close,  hiding  her  face  against 
him. 

Ah!  Eleanor,  you  have  your  joy  at  last,  but 
does  not  the  price  you  paid  sometimes  rob  that 
joy  of  sweetness?  The  memory  of  a  voice,  the 
thoughts  that  surge  round  and  storm  your 
heart,  refusing  to  be  banished! 

Her  heart's  painful  throbbing  stifling  her,  she 
cried:  "Why  need  it  be?  Must  I  suffer  this 
eternal  expiation?  Must  I  ever  long  for  some 


THE  JUDGMENT  187 

forbidden  joy?  Shall  the  sweetness  of  mother 
love  be  tainted  by  the  bitterness  of  memory? 
Oh ! — it  is  my  punishment,  and  cruel  as  it  is,  I 
acknowledge  its  justice;  for  tortured  now  as 
lost  souls  must  be  tortured,  I  love,  yes  I  love 
him;  and  I  want— oh,  God!  I  want  my  child's 
father." 

But  tears  do  not  efface ;  a  bitter  wail  cannot 
silence  the  tortured  cries  of  conscience,  nor  re- 
grets remove  the  consequences  of  sinful  deeds; 
and  in  our  hours  of  greatest  joy,  memory  oft 
points  a  scornful  finger  to  a  blackened  spot  re- 
minding us:  "How  dare  you  laugh,  while  yet  I 
live,  to  place  upon  your  joy  my  blighting 
touch!"  In  each  man's  soul  there  lies  the  sin- 
sick  knowledge  of  his  own  unworthiness.  It 
binds  our  souls  to  earth  with  chains  of  steel. 
We  cannot  sunder  them;  we  cannot  lift  our 
hearts  above  their  cumbering  weight;  but  He, 
the  maker  of  us  all,  can  touch  them  with  a 
breath,  and  lo!  they  break  apart,  and — won- 
drous thing — our  hearts  that  lay  beneath,  black- 
ened by  sin,  trembling  with  unworthiness,  and 
bowed  to  earth  with  human  helplessness,  arise, 
and  soar  to  Him  on  the  spotless  wings  of  faith, 
purified  and  healed  by  that  eternal  sacrifice 
that  cleanses  all. 

Another  day.  Eleanor  was  standing  at  her 
open  window  in  the  early  Spring  sunshine,  hold- 


188  THE  JUDGMENT 

ing  her  little  son  in  her  arms,  as  her  husband 
entered  the  room. 

"I  found  this  at  Tiffany's,  and  I  thought  you 
might  like  it  for  the  boy,"  he  remarked,  holding 
out  a  little  box. 

She  opened  it,  to  find  two  dainty  diamond 
set  sleeve  clasps.  "They  are  lovely!"  and 
she  clasped  them  on  the  tiny  sleeves,  dis- 
closing the  rounded  dimpled  arm.  "Sweet- 
ness!" she  cried,  and  bent  to  kiss  the  little 
elbow. 

"If  they  could  see  you  now,  Eleanor,  all 
would  say  the  DeWitte  painting  was  the  most 
wonderful  likeness  in  the  world,"  the  man  de- 
clared in  ecstasy  at  the  lovely  sight. 

Eleanor  tried  to  avoid  her  husband's  eyes. 
At  every  caress  from  him,  every  touch  of  his 
hand,  a  spasm  of  pain  or  something  deeper 
crossed  her  face. 

Manning's  domesticity  became  a  standing 
joke  among  his  friends,  who  laughed  at  it,  and 
wondered  how  long  this  state  of  things  would 
last.  In  his  perverted  nature,  fad  had  followed 
fad,  passion  had  succeeded  passion,  and  pleas- 
ures once  secured,  soon  lost  their  joy,  to  be 
pushed  aside  for  the  next  to  come. 

"Eleanor,  I  often  think  you  are  jealous  of 
the  baby,"  her  mother  told  her  one  morning, 
after  Manning's  early  visit  to  the  child.  "You 


THE  JUDGMENT  189 

never  look  very  pleasant  when  William  holds 
him,  and  I  wonder  that  he  does  not  notice  it." 

"I  hate  his  air  of  ownership,"  Eleanor  an- 
swered. 

"Well,  of  all  things!  Hate  to  have  the 
child's  own  father  assert  his  rightful  claims! 
You  always  had  unpleasant  traits,  Eleanor,  but 
this  amounts  to  more  than  all,"  Mrs.  Howard 
sniffed  disgustedly. 

"The  child's  own  father!  Oh,  my  God!" 
Eleanor's  heart  wailed.  "I  do  hate  him  more 
and  more.  I  loathe  to  have  him  touch  my 
child,  and  when  he  kisses  him,  my  heart  grows 
hot  and  wild.  Some  day  I  shall  betray  myself. 
Some  day  this  acting  will  fall  apart,  and  my 
secret  will  disclose  itself.  But,  no;  for  my 
darling's  sake,  I  dare  not.  I  must  forever  act 
a  part ;  must  seem  to  care  for  that  which  I  most 
despise.  But  it  is  hard,  so  hard,  to  do." 

"How  fast  he  grows,"  she  cried.  "Three 
months  to-day;  three  months  of  sweetness  you 
have  given  me,  my  little  boy.  The  dearest  days 
of  all  my  life  are  these  I  spend  with  you." 

But  who  dare  attempt  portrayal  of  the  joys 
of  motherhood?  Who  can  describe  a  mother's 
ecstasy;  a  small  head  pillowed  on  her  loving 
breast;  that  throbbing  source  of  succor  to  his 
helplessness  ?  None  need,  for  none  but  mothers 
know. 


190  THE  JUDGMENT 

Daily,  they  grow  more  sweet,  more  dear,  more 
lovable.  Speak  not  with  pity  of  the  self-sacri- 
ficing mothers  giving  up  each  dear  desire,  each 
cherished  pleasure,  to  stay  at  home,  attend  and 
care  for  the  growing  families  that  make  the 
world.  Instead  of  pity,  grant  them  envy  if 
you  must,  for  surely  in  this  world  of  ours  there 
lives  no  other  soul  so  filled  with  joy  as  that  in 
partnership  with  God,  who  feels  itself  the 
source  of  life  and  comfort  for  the  precious  little 
baby  souls  committed  to  their  care. 

Five  months  had  come  to  Eleanor's  little  son, 
and  with  the  day,  appeared  a  tiny  pearl  in  rosy 
coral  setting.  The  nurse  said:  "He  has  a 
tooth,"  and  laughed  in  pride;  but  the  mother 
knew  it  as  a  jewel  that  had  come  to  earth,  and 
fondly  looked  for  those  that  followed  it. 

At  eight  months ;  see  him  totter  on  his  weak, 
uncertain  feet,  while  on  her  knees  she  begged 
him:  "Come,  dearest,  come  to  me,"  and  when 
he  tried  to  come,  she  called  again:  "Come, 
come, ' '  to  catch  him ;  fold  him  in  her  arms,  and 
cry  in  rapture:  "His  first  step;  oh,  my  dear, 
my  little  one,  my  own!" 


CHAPTER 

"  MANNING'S  settlement  on  his  boy  is  certainly 
an  exponent  of  his  fatherly  love,"  said  John 
Hilbrandt,  at  the  club,  as  he  lay  down  the  paper. 

"Isn't  it!"  rejoined  Van  Arsdale. 

"Cut  the  two  sisters  up  pretty  badly,  I  hear; 
they  say  Maude  has  been  raving  ever  since  the 
news  came." 

"Poor  Eva,"  laughed  Hilbrandt,  "I  guess 
her  nose  will  never  recover  from  the  traces  of 
her  tears." 

Van  Arsdale 's  laugh  rang  out  again:  "Too 
bad,  too  bad ;  one  hundred  thousand  each,  offset 
by  a  cool  million  for  the  wife.  I  wish  I  might 
have  viewed  the  scene.  I  wonder  if  Manning 
had  the  nerve  to  break  the  news  to  them,  or 
if  he  left  them  to  find  it  out  by  chance.  Poor 
girls;  they  won't  even  have  enough  to  buy  a 
little  Frenchman.  Too  bad,  too  bad,"  and  both 
men  laughed  again. 

"Manning  certainly  has  the  'dust,'  "  Hil- 
brandt went  on.  "I  hear  that  besides  the  mil- 
lion to  the  wife,  there  will  be  nearly  one  hundred 
million  to  descend  to  that  one  small  boy.  Great 

191 


192  THE  JUDGMENT 

Scott !  It  makes  me  faint,"  and  he  leaned  back 
in  a  simulated  collapse. 

Van  Arsdale  grinned:  "You  could  pay  your 
debts  on  that,  eh,  John?" 

Hilbrandt  looked  up:  "If  Manning  were  out 
of  the  way,  I'd  like  to  try  for  the  million.  By 
George!  I  wish  I  could,"  he  added. 

"Manning  can't  stand  this  strain  long.  Bet- 
ter be  ready,  John;  faint  heart,  you  know," 
Bobby  reminded  him. 

"Too  stupendous  luck  for  me,  and  besides  I 
couldn't  stand  to  live  in  the  house  with  that 
little  chap.  The  temptation  to  kill  him  would 
be  too  strong.  I  guess  I'd  better  not  enter  the 
race,"  he  grinned.  "But  wouldn't  it  be  a  hot 
one?" 

In  their  new  home  the  Manning  sisters  had 
seen  the  paper. 

"I  simply  cannot  bear  it,"  Maude  cried,  her 
face  twitching  with  anger  and  grief.  "Why 
couldn't  he  have  died  before  that  baby  came?" 

"It  is  awful,"  wailed  Eva,  "no  one  will  ever 
notice  us  now.  One  hundred  thousand!  Just 
think !  We  will  have  to  do  on  one  maid  between 
us,  and  you  always  keep  one  busy,  Maude,  you 
know  you  do. ' ' 

"A  million  dollars  for  her!"  and  Maude's 
teeth  snapped,  "and  all  the  rest  of  it,  all  the 
rest  of  it  to  that  child." 


THE  JUDGMENT  193 

As  Mrs.  Norton  was  announced,  Maude 
started  up  in  the  hope  of  escape.  "I  will  not 
see  her, ' '  she  cried,  ' '  she  has  only  come  to  twit 
us  with  this  awful  thing."  But  her  aunt  inter- 
cepted her  flight. 

"Don't  run  away,  my  dear,"  in  acid  tones, 
"it  is  only  I,  and  I  have  come  to  sympathize 
with  you  about  William's  settlements.  He  has 
certainly  cut  you  and  Eva  out.  I  am  so  sorry 
for  your  poor  luck,  for  surely  I,  more  than  any- 
one, know  just  why  you  shed  these  tears.  I 
was  defrauded  by  my  brother,  your  father,  and 
I  know  full  well  the  chagrin  which  fills  you 
now."  They  could  not  speak.  "Poor  things, 
they  feel  it  keenly, ' '  she  remarked,  as  if  to  her- 
self, then  went  on :  "  Ah !  me !  I  did  not  realize 
the  influence  of  his  wife,  for  of  course,  it  is  her 
doing."  As  she  spoke,  she  cast  on  them  a 
searching  look.  "Do  you  not  think  a  personal 
appeal  to  Eleanor  might  avail  to  make  him  en- 
large your  shares?" 

Maude  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  eyes  darting 
fire.  "What!  Beg  of  her!  Aunt  Norton  you 
forget  yourself!"  while  Eva  complained:  "It 
would  do  no  good;  she  would  let  him  give  us 
nothing  more."  The  old  woman's  malicious 
face  shone  with  her  wicked  glee.  *  *  Perhaps  you 
might  try,  Eva." 

"Are  you  thinking  of  the  many  times  you 


194  THE  JUDGMENT 

pleaded  for  more,  Aunt  Norton?"  Maude  cried 
desperately.  The  shaft  went  home.  "How 
dare  you,  Miss!"  she  glared  at  her  niece;  but 
Maude,  now  thoroughly  aroused,  was  quite  her 
match.  "How  dare  you?"  she  returned,  her 
black  eyes  blazing,  "you  did  it;  on  your  knees 
you  begged  father  for  more  than  was  given  you, 
but  I  want  to  tell  you  once  for  all,  that  before 
I  sink  to  that,  I  will  step  off  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge.  True,  I  am  your  niece,  but  there  the 
likeness  ends."  She  left  the  room,  and  Eva 
had  to  face  alone  the  old  woman's  insane  anger. 
When  at  last  she  was  gone,  Eva  sought  her 
sister  and  dropped  weakly  into  a  chair. 
"Maude!"  she  gasped,  "how  could  you?  I 
thought  she  would  die." 

"I  wish  she  would  before  she  gets  home  to 
change  her  will,"  Maude  answered.  "That 
would  perhaps  have  helped  us  some." 

"Well,  we'll  never  get  it  now,"  wailed  Eva. 

"Did  she  say  so?" 

"Say  so!  Heavens !  If  you  could  have  seen 
her  face."  Eva's  hands  were  trembling,  her 
face  was  pale  and  even  her  nose  was  fading. 

"I  couldn't  help  it;  she  made  me  say  it.  I 
don't  believe  she  meant  to  leave  us  anything 
anyway,"  Maude  tried  to  reassure  herself. 

For  some  months  Mrs.  Howard  had  been  fail- 
ing, but  no  persuasion  upon  Eleanor's  part 


THE  JUDGMENT  195 

could  induce  her  to  forego  the  pleasures  of  so- 
ciety. She  had  become  devoted  to  "bridge," 
and  spent  many  hours  of  every  day  engaged  in 
the  game,  first  at  one  house,  then  another,  and 
in  this  way  used  so  much  of  her  reduced 
strength  that  her  health  suffered  perceptibly. 
11  There  is  nothing  at  home  but  the  baby,"  she 
complained,  "and  I  must  have  some  amuse- 
ment." 

But  the  day  came  when  she  was  unable  to 
leave  her  bed,  and  soon  the  doctors  gave  the 
verdict,  "Double  pneumonia— a  bad  case." 
With  all  her  failing  strength,  she  clung  to  Elea- 
nor and  was  never  willing  that  she  should  leave 
her  bedside.  Night  and  day,  she  watched  and 
ministered,  foregoing  more  than  glimpses  of 
her  boy.  "Can't  the  nurses  do  all  this?"  Man- 
ning urged,  noting  her  tired  face.  "You 
should  save  yourself  for  the  boy." 

"The  doctors  say  that  additional  excitement 
will  kill  her,"  she  explained,  "and  as  she  is 
always  begging  for  me,  I  feel  that  I  must 
stay." 

"It  will  not  be  long,"  said  the  doctors,  and 
Eleanor  continued  her  service.  After  a  long 
hard  day  and  restless  night,  the  sick  woman 
opened  her  eyes.  "Why  don't  you  do — some- 
thing— for  me?  I  am  sick— so  sick — so  sick 
— but  you— do  not — care,"  she  quavered. 


196  THE  JUDGMENT 

"  There,  now,  be  quiet,  and  you  will  feel  bet- 
ter," urged  the  nurse. 

"I  will  not.  I'm  tired  of  being  quiet,"  the 
weak  voice  complained.  "Lift  me  up — lift  me 
up." 

"No,  no,"  from  the  nurse.  "Do  not  excite 
yourself;  you  must  not,  you  must  obey  me." 

"I  will  not,"  the  thin  voice  rose  almost  to  a 
shriek.  *  *  I  will, ' '  and  she  lifted  herself  quickly, 
before  they  could  prevent  her.  "Oh!"  cried 
the  dismayed  nurse,  "you  must  lie  down,"  but 
too  late ;  the  cruel  strain  had  broken,  and  with 
a  half-strangled  cry,  the  sick  woman  fell  upon 
her  pillows.  Her  face,  lately  flushed  with  fever, 
turned  a  violet  hue,  and  she  was  suddenly  quiet. 

"What  is  it?"  Eleanor  cried,  bending  over 
the  bed,  frightened  at  the  rapid  change. 

"Be  brave,  Mrs.  Manning,  she  is  dead." 

All  that  day,  the  words  beat  into  her  brain. 
"She  is  dead!  dead!  dead!  She  is  dead!" 
Through  all  their  persistent  reiteration,  they 
seemed  half  meaningless.  "What  is  the  rea- 
son?" she  asked  herself,  "am  I  so  heartless  that 
I  cannot  grieve  for  my  own  mother?  She  is 
dead."  But  the  only  answer  was  that  precise 
repetition  of  sound :  ' '  Yes,  dead ;  she  is  dead ! ' ' 

"It  was  the  shock,"  they  said,  as  they  lifted 
Eleanor  to  the  bed  from  the  floor  where  she  had 
fallen.  When  at  last  she  was  aroused,  she 


THE  JUDGMENT  197 

found  the  house  closed  and  quiet.  The  serv- 
ants passed  on  tiptoe  through  the  darkened 
rooms.  Death  had  covered  the  place  with  his 
gloomy  black  pall,  and  the  majesty  of  his  mys- 
terious presence  hushed  every  voice,  and  si- 
lenced every  step. 

After  her  mother's  funeral,  the  quiet  house 
oppressed  Eleanor.  Upon  her  heart  lay  a 
heavy  weight  that  even  the  baby  wiles  of  little 
Joe  but  half  drove  away.  With  self-reproach, 
she  acknowledged  that  the  source  of  her  unhap- 
piness  did  not  lie  in  her  mother's  loss.  "I  am 
distressed ;  of  course  I  am.  What  woman  could 
fail  to  be?"  she  mused,  but  there  her  sorrow 
ended. 

Little  Joe  crept  to  her  side,  and  with  all  his 
might  pulled  on  her  skirts,  demanding  notice. 
She  looked  down  at  him,  then  stooped,  and 
lifted  him  in  close  embrace.  "What  if  the  day 
should  come  that  he  should  feel  like  this 
towards  me?"  She  shuddered  at  the  horrid 
possibility,  and  in  her  heart  was  registered  the 
vow  that  "  whatever  the  future  brings,  never 
while  I  have  breath  to  refuse  my  consent,  shall 
my  child  make  for  me  the  sacrifice  of  youth  and 
love  and  all  its  rights,  for  by  such  things  as 
these  love  often  chills  and  dies." 

Six  months  passed,  and  in  that  time  Eleanor's 
face  showed  plain  traces  of  the  cruel  pressure 


198  THE  JUDGMENT 

under  which  she  lived.  Manning  loved  the 
child  with  as  deep  a  love  as  was  in  his  selfish 
nature  to  give,  and  found  delight  in  tracing  re- 
semblances to  himself  in  each  of  the  beautiful 
features  of  the  baby  face. 

This  pastime  almost  maddened  Eleanor,  but 
Manning  was  too  engrossed  to  often  notice  the 
anger  on  her  part,  or  if  he  did,  attributed  it  to 
"her  woman's  jealousy." 

"To  think  that  you  could  look  like  him,"  she 
panted,  searching  the  little  face,  and  thinking- 
thinking — thinking — 

"I'll  leave  him  in  your  hands  for  a  little 
while,  but  when  he  outgrows  his  babyhood,  you 
must  then  turn  him  over  to  me,"  he  told  her  one 
morning,  when  she  had  asked  him  not  to  inter- 
fere with  the  outlined  routine  of  the  child's  life. 
"You  are  positively  spiteful,  Eleanor,"  he  de- 
clared another  time.  "It  enrages  you  to  see 
how  much  the  baby  loves  me.  It  is  disgusting 
to  me  to  see  a  woman  act  as  you  do  but  you 
might  as  well  realize  that  your  jealousy  shall 
not  separate  me  and  my  son." 

"Your  son,  oh,  my  God !  Your  son.  Never! 
He  is  mine,  all  mine,"  her  anguished  jealous 
heart  repeated,  still  thinking,  thinking,  think- 
ing— 

"Eleanor  is  not  well,  she  needs  a  change,'* 
Dr.  Bryan  told  him,  and  Manning,  fearful  lest 


THE  JUDGMENT  199 

the  boy  lose  his  mother,  agreed  to  send  them 
away  for  several  months  with  the  intention  of 
joining  them  later  on. 

One  day  the  servant  brought  a  card:  "Mr. 
Avery  LeNoir,"  she  read.  Who  was  it!  where 
had  she  heard  it  before  ?  There  was  a  familiar 
sound  to  the  name,  although  she  could  not  place 
it,  and  was  still  wondering  when  she  entered 
the  room  where  the  visitor  awaited  her.  Brown 
eyes  and  ruddy  coloring  brightened  his  hand- 
some countenance.  His  dark  hair  was  plenti- 
fully sprinkled  with  gray,  and  the  silver  tint 
lent  an  added  air  of  distinction  to  his  person- 
ality. "Do  you  know  me?"  a  pleasant  voice 
inquired,  and  the  gentleman  smiled,  his  brown 
eyes  gleaming  at  her  apparent  confusion. 
"No,"  she  answered,  "and  yet  I  feel  that  I 
do."  Her  large  dark  eyes  were  fixed  on  his, 
and  there  was  a  dawning  pleasure  in  their 
depths. 

"I  am  your  father's  cousin,"  he  answered, 
and  grasped  her  quickly  outstretched  hand. 

"Ah,  yes;  from  North  Carolina.  How  glad 
I  am  to  meet  you!"  in  quick  interest.  "I  have 
met  so  few  of  my  father's  people;  in  fact,  you 
are  the  first  in  years;  and  to  know  more  of 
them  has  always  been  my  cherished  hope." 

"And  we,  too,  have  hoped  to  know  you,"  he 
assured  her.  The  genial  nature  of  the  South 


200  THE  JUDGMENT 

was  in  them  both,  and  soon  they  grew  fast 
friends. 

During  his  brief  visit  he  urged  her  to  come 
to  the  Old  North  State  for  recuperation.  "In 
the  branches  of  its  tall  pines,  the  breezes  whis- 
per of  health  and  joy,  and  I  know  it  will  be 
good  for  you."  Manning  approved  the  plan, 
and  hastened  her  preparations  for  leaving. 
He  chose  Asheville  as  her  first  stopping  place. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  LeNoir  were  to  meet  her  there; 
and  she  had  promised  to  make  them  a  visit  at 
their  home  in  Ealeigh. 

"You  cannot  fail  to  enjoy  Asheville, "  Dr. 
Bryan  told  her,  discussing  the  proposed  trip, 
"it  is  one  of  the  most  lovely  spots  I  ever  saw, 
and  its  climate  and  beauty  of  scenery  will  soon 
make  you  over  again,  my  dear." 

"Going  to  North  Carolina!  How  strange, 
how  strange!"  he  afterward  mused.  "The 
workings  of  Providence!  If  it  should  be!  but 
even  so,  it  is  hardly  likely  that  they  two  should 
meet. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HIGH:  up  the  mountain,  at  Kenilworth  Inn,  Elea- 
nor and  little  Joe  found  a  temporary  home. 
From  that  magnificent  location  the  eye  is  met 
on  every  side  by  the  wooded  slopes  of  the  sur- 
rounding mountain,  green  as  emerald  in  the 
sunlight,  but  shading  into  darkness  in  the  shad- 
ows, and  into  shifting  opal  hues  of  blue  and 
lilac  beneath  the  obscuring  clouds  that  float 
round  their  summits.  Far  to  the  West,  the 
mountains  lie,  their  shadowy  outlines  half  hid- 
den by  the  mists. 

Two  weeks  of  undiluted  pleasure  they  spent 
together,  winding  down  the  narrow  paths,  gath- 
ering the  strange  new  flowers  scattered  pro- 
fusely over  the  mountain  sides,  and  searching 
the  woods  for  ferns  that  everywhere  bordered 
the  rippling  streams  as  they  found  their  musical 
way  from  the  eternal  springs,  where  from  the 
mountains  down  through  the  trees  and  flowers 
they  flowed  to  empty  themselves  into  the  rush- 
ing waters  of  the  river  that  bathed  the  moun- 
tain's rocky  foot. 

Each  day  developed  its  own  new  joy,  and 
201 


202  THE  JUDGMENT 

little  Joe  was  like  a  thing  demented  by  Ms  hap- 
piness at  the  discovery  of  these  hitherto  un- 
known, undreamed  of  pleasures.  His  clear, 
white  skin  took  on  a  browner  tint;  his  large, 
brown  eyes  sparkled  more  brightly,  and  the 
clear  music  of  his  laughter  floated  on  the  warm 
air;  each  note  a  gem  in  his  mother's  crown  of 
joy.  Between  themselves  love  seemed  to  find 
perennial  springs  of  never-failing  strength  to 
feed  anew  their  love.  The  people  at  the  hotel 
grew  familiar  with  the  sight  of  them  wandering 
off  hand  in  hand,  to  explore  some  new  nook, 
where  ferns  flourished  or  where  daisies  nodded 
their  graceful  heads  on  their  long,  upright 
stems.  Their  rooms  overflowed  with  the  beauti- 
ful burdens  with  which  their  arms  were  filled, 
returning  from  these  daily  tramps. 

Two  undisturbed  and  happy  weeks  were 
theirs  before  Mr.  and  Mrs.  LeNoir  came.  To 
them  Asheville  was  an  old  story,  but  no  one 
could  tire  of  its  picturesque  beauty  or  fail  to 
enjoy  its  bracing  health-giving  atmosphere. 

Mrs.  LeNoir  was  a  rather  small,  slender  wo- 
man; her  head,  crowned  with  an  abundance  of 
red-brown  hair,  was  well  held  upon  her  slender 
neck.  Her  clear,  white  skin  was  tinged  with  a 
delicate  pink  in  cheeks,  and  rich  scarlet  in  her 
curving  lips.  Her  large,  gray  eyes  gleaming 
brightly  with  animation,  attracted  everyone  she 


,THE  JUDGMENT  203 

met.  More  than  merely  pretty,  she  possessed 
that  rarest  of  all  charms — the  subtle  fascina- 
tion by  which  a  friend  is  made,  and  afterwards, 
kept.  Between  Eleanor  and  her  a  quick  interest 
developed,  and  quite  equal  to  their  friendship 
was  that  which  arose  between  Mr.  LeNoir  and 
little  Joe.  Without  children  of  his  own,  and 
with  few  among  his  family,  the  man's  heart 
went  out  to  the  engaging  child,  who  in  that  way 
seen  oftenest  in  children  and  in  dogs,  responded 
lavishly  to  his  affection.  Augmenting  the  slight 
relationship  between  them,  he  taught  the  child 
to  call  him  "Uncle,"  and  they  became  good 
comrades. 

Joe,  desirous  of  revealing  to  his  new  con- 
federate the  wonders  of  his  recent  discoveries, 
led  him  along  the  paths  and  streams,  pointing 
out  the  springs  that  bubbled  through  the  rocks, 
emptying  their  overflow  into  the  clear  waters 
of  the  nearby  river.  "It  goes  yite  down  to  de 
wibber,"  he  explained.  "  Muddy  taked  off  my 
shoes  and  tockings  so  I  could  wade.  Ess  us 
wade  now,  des  you  and  me,"  his  brown  eyes 
half  shut,  their  smooth  lids  wrinkled  in  a  quiz- 
zical smile  of  understanding. 

Before  the  coming  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  LeNoir, 
Eleanor  and  the  boy  had  spent  most  of  their 
time  out  of  doors,  rambling  over  the  hillsides 
and  through  the  valleys,  listening  to  the  calling 


204:  THE  JUDGMENT 

of  the  birds,  enjoying  the  all  pervading  nat- 
uralness of  things,  desiring  little  but  themselves 
and  the  wild  beauty  round  them.  In  the  spirit 
of  genial  Southern  hospitality,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
LeNoir  pressed  upon  Eleanor  the  acquaintance 
of  their  Asheville  friends,  and  through  them  it 
was  that  she  first  learned  of  the  real  South. 

* 'I  am  so  delighted  with  your  friends,"  Elea- 
nor exclaimed  to  Mrs.  LeNoir.  "I  never  knew 
such  lovely  people  lived  on  earth."  She  half 
laughed  at  her  superlative  words  and  as  if  ex- 
cusing her  warmth,  continued:  "  You  know  I  am 
half  Southern,  and  I  now  believe  it  is  my  greater 
half.  I  have  grown  to  love  it  all  so  soon." 

"I  wish  we  might  keep  you  among  us  al- 
ways," Mrs.  LeNoir  responded. 

"You  may,  if  you  are  not  more  careful  how 
you  display  your  temptations,"  Eleanor 
laughed  again,  as  she  uttered  the  light  words, 
but  to  herself,  she  added : ' '  I  wish  I  might  never 
see  New  York  again." 

At  the  end  of  their  two  months'  stay  in  Ashe- 
ville, the  LeNoirs  returned  to  their  home  in 
Kaleigh,  and  with  them,  Eleanor  and  the  little 
child,  now  grown  fast  friends,  for  their  prom- 
ised visit. 

Mr.  LeNoir  had  a  great  fondness  for  dogs, 
and  in  their  home  there  were  four  occupying 
important  places :  Wiggles,  Jap  and  Nick ;  three 


THE  JUDGMENT  205 

frisky  young  Scotch  terriers,  and  Shirley,  the 
mother  of  them  all.  Jap  and  Wiggles  might 
lay  claim  to  beauty,  but  Nick  was  bow-legged, 
shaggy  and  forlorn  looking — as  ugly  as  he  was 
good,  and  as  good  as  he  could  be. 

To  Nick,  little  Joe  immediately  attached  him- 
self, and  the  child  with  the  dog  made  a  funny 
couple  roaming  round  the  big  yard,  chasing 
butterflies  by  day  and  lightning  bugs  at  night. 

"He  not  plitty,  but  he  so  dood  to  me,"  little 
Joe  explained. 

"Top !  Jap,  don't  shite  my  daug,"  they  heard 
his  excited  cry,  and  hurrying  to  the  scene,  Mr. 
LeNoir  turned,  softly  calling  to  his  wife  and 
Eleanor  to  witness  the  struggle.  Nick  and  Jap 
were  in  the  throes  of  battle ;  snapping,  snarling, 
biting  and  teasing  each  other,  while  Joe  stood 
by,  deep  concern  upon  his  face,  calling  out 
again  and  again:  "Top,  Jap !  don't  shite  Nick." 

Wiggles  heard  the  sounds  of  warfare,  and 
came  bounding  over  the  lawn  to  the  rescue  of 
her  beloved  Jap,  as  if  fearing  injury  for  him 
at  the  hands  of  Nick,  their  joint  enemy,  and  at 
her  appearance,  the  battle  grew  more  fierce. 

Shirley  lay  upon  the  steps  in  comfortable 
middle-aged  lethargy,  but  lifted  her  head  at  the 
persistent  yelping;  then  rising  with  a  disap- 
proving snarl,  her  hair  bristling  with  anger  at 
the  public  misbehavior  of  her  children,  she 


206  THE  JUDGMENT 

raced  toward  them,  an  angry  ball  of  fur  bearing 
swift  punishment  for  the  offenders.  Into  the 
midst  of  them  she  jumped,  distributing  her 
angry  snaps  and  snarls  on  all  sides  with  im- 
partial justice. 

This  was  too  much  for  Joe,  and  despairing  of 
Nick's  survival  of  the  attacks  of  the  combined 
forces,  he  plunged  boldly  into  the  melee, 
grasped  Nick's  neck  with  two  protecting  arms, 
while  with  his  sturdy  little  legs,  he  wielded 
swift  blows  upon  the  late  assailants  of  his  fa- 
vorite. 

"Kit  it!  Jap— kit  it  Shaily! — do  way,  Wid- 
dles!"  he  cried  in  angry  tones.  "Don't  you 
shite  my  daug!"  The  surprised  dogs  stood 
back  from  the  fierce  little  legs,  but  Nick  was 
choking  in  the  tightly  clasping  arms,  and  strug- 
gled wildly  to  escape.  The  baby  voice  grew 
tender:  "Be  dood,  Nick.  I  dot  you,  be  dood," 
till  reassured,  Nick  grew  quieter,  and  holding 
tight  around  Nick's  shoulders,  Joe  sank  upon 
the  grass  beside  him,  and  the  boy  and  his  dog 
thus  challenged  the  world. 

The  laughter  of  the  watchers  did  not  discon- 
cert him,  as  he  turned  to  them  explaining:  "I 
dot  my  daug.  Dey  was  shitin'  he." 

"By  George!  he's  a  plucky  little  chap,"  Mr. 
LeNoir  cried  admiringly,  then  turned  to  Joe: 
"You  shall  have  Nick,  Joe,  since  you  have  res- 


THE  JUDGMENT  207 

cued  him.  He  is  your  dog  now,  to  keep,  for  al- 
ways." 

"An'  lib  wiv  me?"  the  child  asked,  his  eyes 
bright  and  shining. 

"Yes,  your  own  to  live  with  you  always." 

"Oh,  doody!  doody!  doody!  Nick's  my  daug! 
Nick's  my  daug!"  he  cried,  jumping  wildly  up 
and  down,  then  dashed  to  Mr.  LeNoir  and 
clasped  him  around  the  knees.  "I  lub  you, 
Uncle  Abewy,  you'se  dood  to  me,"  he  gratefully 
declared. 

The  LeNoir  house  looked  upon  an  immense 
front  lawn,  shaded  with  large  trees  and  beauti- 
fied by  flowers.  Raleigh  is  old  and  aristocratic, 
its  residents  acknowledged  the  superior  birth 
and  breeding  of  the  old  families,  and  even  with' 
the  late  influx  of  money  and  modernity,  the 
difference  is  widely  marked  as  is  shown  by  the 
contemptuous  comparisons  of  the  servants. 
"Dey's  new  folks.  Ole  Mistis  is  quality." 
Mrs.  Gregory,  Mrs.  LeNoir 's  mother,  was  "Ole 
Mistis." 

The  Gregory  family  homestead  was  a  large 
Colonial  mansion,  built  in  the  style  of  long  ago, 
but  unlike  many  of  the  old  Southern  home- 
steads, which  have  unhappily  gone  to  ruin,  this 
home  was  kept  up  as  handsomely  as  of  old.  The 
large  lawns  were  smooth  and  green;  the  well- 
trimmed  trees  shaded  the  rustic  seats  below* 


208  THE  JUDGMENT 

i 

Flowers  grew  where  they  had  bloomed  for  more 
than  a  hundred  years,  dropping  their  seeds  to 
come  again  in  the  selfsame  spots  with  each  suc- 
ceeding spring.  The  furniture  was  as  brightly 
polished  as  when  first  it  graced  the  place  when 
Mrs.  Gregory's  grandmother,  in  stiff  brocade 
and  rare  old  lace,  swept  from  her  coach,  a  new- 
made  bride,  to  enter  the  home  prepared  with  in- 
finite pains  by  her  handsome  young  husband, 
who  held  open  the  door,  and  bade  her  enter. 
[From  that  day,  the  Gregory  family  had  lived 
there,  each  oldest  son  occupying  the  old  home 
with  increasing  pride. 

The  Civil  War,  that  devastated  the  South  of 
the  flower  of  her  manhood,  so  thinned  the  ranks 
of  the  Gregory  family,  that  after  its  close  but 
few  remained.  Mr.  Gregory,  the  oldest  of  his 
family,  was  the  only  one  of  four  brothers  to  re- 
turn from  that  unhappy  struggle,  and  he  came, 
bearing  pistol  wounds  and  sabre  thrusts, 
mementoes  of  its  deadly  struggles. 

Though  blessed  with  numerous  children,  but 
three  now  remained  to  them;  two  daughters, 
Mrs.  LeNoir  and  Mary,  a  young  girl  of  sixteen, 
and  one  son — Harold— a  man  of  thirty  years. 

Mary  Gregory  was  a  small,  slender  girl. 
Her  curling,  brown  hair  was  nearly  black,  and 
her  dark,  brown  eyes  were  bright  with  a  mis- 
chievous light.  Her  rich  brunette  skin  was 


THE  JUDGMENT  209 

tinted  like  burnt  ivory.  She  and  her  brother 
Hal  were  constant  companions. 

"If  you  are  not  careful,  Brother  Hal,  you 
will  be  too  old  and  feeble  to  take  me  out,"  she 
said  one  day,  teasing  him. 

"I  think,  perhaps,  someone  might  be  found 
to  take  your  old  brother's  place,  in  such  an  ex- 
tremity, ' '  he  laughed,  pulling  out  a  long,  brown 
curl,  that  hung  behind  her  ear. 

"Oh!  Hal,  I  see  you  want  to  desert  me. 
Don't  go  back  on  me  now  about  that  hateful  old 
school.  You've  always  been  my  friend,"  she 
pleaded,  her  arms  around  him,  her  face  pressed 
close  to  his. 

"Be  good  another  year,  little  girl,  and  you 
may  then  be  free,"  he  promised  in  a  whisper. 

"Eeally,  Hal?    Mother  says  two  years." 

"You  be  good  and  we  will  see." 

"Oh,  I  will,  if  one  hateful  year  is  gone.  You 
are  a  darling  old  angel,  Big  Brother,"  and  she 
hugged  him  frantically. 

"Ugh!  what  a  little  bear  you  are.  You've 
broken  my  neck,  I  declare,"  rubbing  his  neck 
in  mock  distress. 

Mary  danced  off  laughing.  "One  year  gone, 
one  year  gone,  one  year  gone,"  she  chanted 
gaily,  dancing  around  him. 

"Why,  Mary,  are  you  mad?"  a  laughing 
voice  inquired,  and  they  turned  to  find  Mrs.  Le- 


210  THE  JUDGMENT 

Noir  and  Eleanor  coming  up  the  path  toward 
them.  Mrs.  Gregory  sat  in  her  own  special 
summer-house,  her  favorite  cross-stitch  work  in 
her  busy  hands.  Upon  the  soft  path  the  new- 
comers made  little  noise.  "Come  in,  my 
dears,"  she  invited  them. 

"It  is  so  lovely  out  of  doors  to-day,  that  I 
left  the  house  for  the  bright  sunshine.  Dear 
child" — she  turned  to  Eleanor,  taking  her  hand 
—"this  is  my  boy,  Harold ;  I've  told  you  of  him, 
you  know.  He  made  his  mother  happy  when 
he  came  home  last  night." 

Harold's  eyes  met  Eleanor's;  the  loveliest 
eyes  he  had  ever  seen,  the  loveliest  face,  the 
loveliest  woman;  and  from  that  first  look,  his 
admiration  quickened. 

"My  mother  has  sung  your  praises,  Mrs. 
Manning,  since  I  arrived  last  night.  I  am  de- 
lighted to  meet  you." 

Eleanor's  face  was  rosy,  and  filled  with 
laughter  when  she  came  up  the  path  with  Mrs. 
LeNoir,  but  suddenly  the  rosy  tint  retreated, 
and  pallor  overspread  her  face. 

The  man's  voice  gripped  her  heart  with  an 
iron  grasp  of  tormenting  doubt  and  memory. 
His  gray  eyes  scanned  her  face,  until  she  felt 
that  she  must  die. 

"Oh,  God!  will  he  never  look  away,"  her  an- 
guished heart  cried,  but  with  a  great  effort,  she 


THE  JUDGMENT  211 

answered  him,  her  heart  almost  stilled  with  the 
dread  reality  thrust  upon  it.  How  the  morning 
passed,  she  hardly  knew,  in  her  fevered  excite- 
ment, trying  to  appear  at  ease. 

On  the  return  drive  Mrs.  Lenoir  said  to 
her:  "My  brother  insists  that  he  must  have 
met  you  previously.  He  says  there  is  some- 
thing which  tells  him  that  he  has  known  you 
before." 

"Such  things  are  very  strange,"  Eleanor  an- 
swered, not  daring  to  be  silent,  though  her  voice 
was  low  and  shaken.  "But  I  think  they  often 
happen." 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  LeNoir  proceeded,  "it  almost 
leads  one  to  believe  in  the  soul's  transmigra- 
tion, and  that  we  have  in  other  worlds  known 
and  been  known  before  we  came  to  this." 

Eleanor's  eyes  were  far  away  and  dreamy, 
and  the  drive  homeward  was  rather  silent. 

That  night,  when  her  child  was  sleeping,  she 
sank  upon  her  knees  beside  her  window,  gazing 
into  the  night.  "Why  did  I  come — why  did  I 
come  here?  What  shall  I  do?  To  face  him 
again,  I  dare  not.  I  am  overtaken  by  my 
shame,"  and  her  head  fell  upon  the  window- 
seat  as  she  crouched  alone  in  the  darkened 
room. 

At  the  end  of  the  long  hours,  one  thing  was 
plain  to  Eleanor;  that  she  could  not  retreat. 


212  THE  JUDGMENT 

Her  first  impulse  had  been  to  leave  Ealeigh  and 
even  the  State,  immediately,  but  a  second 
thought  had  taught  her  the  inadvisability  of 
such  a  move.  First :  the  offence  to  her  hostess, 
who  expected  her  to  remain  for  the  promised 
visit,  and  then,  what  would  Gregory  think? 
Might  not  the  very  act  of  her  flight  tend  to  dis- 
close to  him  the  secret  of  her  identity.  "No, 
no,  I  must  face  him,  but  how?  God  help  me,  I 
am  punished  indeed."  But  by  the  time  that 
light  had  vanquished  darkness,  all  her  plans 
were  made.  She  would  remain  in  Kaleigh  as 
she  had  promised,  but  concerning  him,  she 
would  be  so  careful  to  avoid  him,  that  no  ex- 
change of  friendliness  might  even  be  attempted. 
In  her  sophistry,  she  overlooked  his  part  in  the 
program,  disregarded,  too,  the  fact  that  already 
she  had  grown  to  love  her  ideal  of  an  unknown 
man,  and  that  when  wounded  nature  cries 
aloud,  reason's  voice  is  hardly  heard. 

She  believed  she  could  conceal  her  identity. 
"I  will  go  away  as  soon  as  an  opportunity  pre- 
sents itself,"  she  assured  herself.  Preparing 
to  meet  Gregory,  as  she  knew  she  must,  prepar- 
ing also  to  shun  his  too  close  society,  he  grew 
to  occupy  her  mind  almost  to  the  exclusion  of 
other  things.  Even  the  child,  about  whom  her 
tenderest  love  had  wrapped  itself,  became  no 
longer  her  only  object.  To  evade  him,  to  avoid 
him,  and  yet  to  do  it  without  exciting  his  sus- 


THE  JUDGMENT  213 

picions,  she  found  it  hard,  for  within  a  few  days 
of  their  first  meeting,  Gregory  plainly  showed 
that  his  interest  in  her  was  intensely  aroused, 
by  the  way  his  eyes  followed  her  movements,  in 
his  manner  of  anticipating  her  every  want,  and 
more  than  all,  by  the  light  that  filled  his  blue- 
gray  eyes,  and  turned  them  into  liquid  sources 
of  tenderness.  He  knew  that  she  was  trying  to 
avoid  him,  and  the  reason  sorely  puzzled  him. 
When  the  realization  found  its  way  to  his  im- 
petuous heart,  he  grimly  determined:  "I'll  find 
out  why. ' ' 

"She  shuns  me,"  he  confided  to  his  lone 
cigar,  after  leaving  the  LeNoir  home.  "Won- 
der what  it  is  about  me  she  dislikes  so  much. 
I'd  like  to  know  so  I  could  change  it."  As  he 
laughed,  the  laughter  held  a  note  not  all  of 
pleasure. 

In  her  room,  Eleanor  was  telling  her  reflec- 
tion: "I  have  made  him  hate  me.  I  saw  it  in 
his  eyes  when  I  refused  to  talk  to  him.  Yes, 
he  hates  me,  hates  me  and  despises  me."  Her 
eyes  were  feverish,  and  her  hands  clasped  and 
unclasped  themselves  against  her  breast.  "But 
how  he  would  despise  and  scorn  me  if  he  knew 
the  truth.  Then  he  would  spurn  me  from  his 
sight;  expose  me  to  his  people;  turn  me  from 
his  sister's  house.  I  know  the  Southern  idea 
— that  man  may  fall  away  where'er  he  choose, 
but  one  false  step  on  woman's  part,  and  she  is 


214  THE  JUDGMENT 

past  redemption.  Oh!  that  I  should  have  met 
him,  and  the  sight  of  him  should  now  so  tor- 
ture me !  The  look  that  comes  into  his  eyes  is 
not  always  that  of  hatred,  and  when  it  comes, 
my  soul  trembles  before  it,  like  frail  grasses  in 
the  breeze.  Yes,  and  like  the  grass,  I  bow  to 
earth  under  the  compellment  of  his  strength. 
But  I  must  not  succumb;  I  must  struggle  on 
against  him,  however  hard  the  way  may  be,  to 
prevent  his  finding  out." 

In  the  early  morning  sunshine,  Eleanor, 
standing  at  her  open  window,  after  an  unquiet 
night,  was  greeted  by  a  sight  that  thrilled  her 
heart  with  anguished  dread ;  like  an  icy  band  it 
closed  around  it.  Gregory,  advancing  toward 
the  house,  met  the  child  playing  with  the  dogs, 
and  stopped  to  talk  with  him,  his  tall,  straight 
form  bent  toward  the  laughing  child,  as  he 
listened  to  his  words.  Suddenly  he  lifted  his 
head  and  laughed  aloud,  and  mingling  with  his 
mellow  tones,  the  childish  voice  chimed  in.  The 
watching  woman  heard,  and  at  the  sound  her 
heart  contracted  with  quick  pain ;  then  through 
her  like  a  wave,  surged  upward  from  her  beat- 
ing heart  a  sudden  ecstasy  of  joy.  Through  all 
her  fear  and  dread,  this  joy  found  its  way,  and 
stronger  than  all  else,  drove  fear  and  dread 
before  it.  Sweet  and  subtle,  like  the  incense  to 
the  ancient  gods,  it  spread  throughout  her  soul ; 


THE  JUDGMENT  215 

for  nature  had  awakened,  and  demanded  her 
own. 

A  few  mornings  later,  the  little  figure  in  the 
scarlet  coat  and  cap,  made  an  attractive  spot 
of  color  flying  over  the  lawn,  followed  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  playful  little  dogs.  Down  the 
broad  street  a  torn-down  wagon  plodded  its 
slow  way,  while  perched  upon  the  insecure  seat 
were  two  brown-faced  pickaninnies  whistling 
like  bright-eyed  birds. 

Joe  stopped  his  play  to  listen  to  the  boys,  but 
Nick  and  Jap  were  unappreciative  of  the  mel- 
ody and  dashed  toward  the  gate  in  yelping 
wrath,  threatening  the  intruders  on  their  peace, 
with  voice  and  angry  attitude.  The  music 
stopped  with  the  wagon,  while  from  the  seat  the 
pickaninnies  laughed.  "Dems  bad  dawgs, 
sho's  yo'  bawn,"  one  cried  in  glee.  "Look  at 
de  little  un— he's  mos'  es  big  es  mah  fis,"  and 
again  the  happy  laugh  rang  out. 

"See  the  long-legged  un,  am'  he  a  sight? 
Sic  'im,  Tige,"  the  other  yelled  at  Nick,  who 
barked  and  yelped  more  fiercely  in  return. 

Joe  was  quick  to  recognize  the  insult,  and  he, 
too,  swelled  with  anger.  "Top  dat,  nigger — 
do  'way,"  he  cried  imperiously.  The  brown 
faces  convulsed  anew ;  the  red  mouths  stretched 
wide  in  laughter  at  the  sight  of  the  funny  little 
figure  of  rage,  standing  within  the  gate. 


216  THE  JUDGMENT 

"Ain'  'e  mad?"  one  cried.  "He's  a'  goin' 
to  eat  us.'* 

"I  reckon  we  better  git,"  his  companion  an- 
swered, pretending  fear. 

Just  then  Mr.  LeNoir  appeared  at  the  door 
to  investigate  the  cause  of  the  disturbance,  but 
at  the  ludicrous  sight  that  met  him,  he  hid 
again  to  watch  its  termination. 

Down  the  street  the  wagon  rolled,  each  wheel 
at  a  different  angle,  each  of  them  emitting  its 
separate  creak  of  protest  at  the  necessity  to 
move.  The  old  horse  shambled  lazily  along, 
undisturbed  by  its  driver's  sharp  "gittap"  or 
the  familiar  snap  of  the  leather  whip. 

'Looking  back,  the  boys  cried:  "Sic'  'im, 
Tige,"  and  all  the  dogs  joined  in:  "Bow-wow- 
wow — wow-wow ! ' ' 

At  a  loss  to  further  vent  his  unappeased 
wrath,  Joe  stood  a  moment  gazing  at  the  re- 
treating wagon;  then  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden 
happy  thought,  he,  too,  joined  in  the  chorus: 
1  'Bow-wow-bow-wow-  wow!"  his  little  body 
bending  back  and  forth,  his  whole  frame  con- 
vulsed by  the  fierceness  .of  his  assault. 

"Hello!  Joe,  have  you  turned  dog?"  a  voice 
inquired,  as  Harold  Gregory,  convulsed  with 
laughter  at  the  funny  sight,  came  around  the 
corner.  "Tell  me  about  it,"  he  insisted,  and 
Joe  related  the  tale. 


THE  JUDGMENT  217 

"And  so  you  barked  at  them  with  Nick,  did 
you?"  Mrs.  LeNoir  had  joined  them,  and 
Gregory  winked  at  her,  as  he  asked  the  question. 

"Ma'am— I  did,"  the  child  replied. 

During  the  days  that  followed,  Eleanor  found 
that  she  could  not,  without  positive  rudeness, 
avoid  Gregory's  society,  for  he  was  determined 
that  she  should  not  evade  him.  With  a  lover's 
eyes,  he  looked  in  hers,  and  saw  therein  what 
she  believed  she  hid;  uneasiness  and  nervous 
dread  of  his  scrutiny.  Although  unable  to 
solve  the  reason  for  its  being,  the  way  in  which 
she  vainly  sought  to  shield  herself  hurt  him, 
until  one  day,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  the 
mask  slipped  aside,  and  beneath  its  shadow 
Gregory  saw  that  which  set  his  pulses  bound- 
ing, his  heart  beating  with  unexpected  joy. 
The  look  was  hidden  again  almost  as  soon  as 
seen,  for  into  his  face  had  leaped  an  answering 
light  to  warn  her  of  her  danger.  But  Gregory 
did  not  forget  the  glimpse  he  caught,  and  the 
remembrance  of  it  robbed  her  coldness  of  its 
chill. 

In  the  meantime,  since  progress  with  the 
mother  was  so  difficult  to  make,  Gregory  de- 
voted his  efforts  to  little  Joe.  Often  he  asked 
himself  if  it  was  alone  because  the  child  was 
hers,  that  his  interest  in  him  grew  so  intense. 
At  first,  obedient  to  his  mother's  stern  com- 


218  THE  JUDGMENT 

mand,  Joe  held  away  from  too  close  contact 
with  him.  "No,  muddy  tole  me  not  to  tay  wiv 
you,"  he  lisped. 

"Why  did  she  say  that,  Joe,  I  wonder,"  the 
man  asked,  half  angry,  half  amused  at  the  can- 
dor of  the  child. 

"You  make  my  muddy,  ky,"  he  explained. 

"How  do  you  know?  Tell  me,  little  man," 
and  his  voice  was  very  eager. 

"You  talked  to  her  de  udder  day,  an'  hurted 
her,  cause  she  came  in  an'  kied;  I  kissed  de  ky 
away,  I  did." 

"And  did  she  say  I  hurt  her,  Joe?"  he  asked 
again,  in  sober  tones. 

"An'  she  hugged  me  up  so  tight,  and  telled 
me  to  lub  her  hard,  cause  I  was  all  she  got  to 
lub  her." 

"I'm  very  sure  you  needn't  be  the  only  one," 
Gregory  remarked  beneath  his  breath,  but  Joe 
only  understood  that  the  man  was  very  kind 
to  him,  and  that  from  this  day  he  found  a  new 
and  most  indulgent  friend. 

A  week  later  Eleanor  was  seated  in  Mrs. 
LeNoir's  honeysuckle  arbor  with  Joe  beside 
her.  The  vines  were  putting  forth  fresh  sprigs 
of  tender  green,  for  spring  was  near  at  hand, 
and  ere  many  weeks  had  passed  would  have 
emptied  her  storehouse  of  fragrance  and  beau- 
tified the  world  with  color  and  sweetness. 


THE  JUDGMENT  219 

Their  visit  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  with  its 
termination,  a  tender  dreamy  look  had  come  to 
Eleanor's  eyes.  She  was  not  aware  of  its 
presence,  and  did  not  know  that  it  revealed  to 
Gregory  the  secret  which  she  strove  to  hide. 
Afraid  of  loving  him,  she  was  gradually  grow- 
ing to  realize  the  fact  of  her  love.  "I  must 
not  think  of  him,"  she  repeated  again  and 
again.  But  love  refuses  warning,  and  pursues 
its  heedless  way  regarding  neither  friend  nor 
foe. 

"Here  he  comes!  here  he  comes!"  Joe  cried, 
and  dashed  toward  an  advancing  figure.  He 
little  knew  that  in  his  mother's  heart  the  same 
words  sang ;  the  same  sight  sent  a  thrill  of  inde- 
scribable joy  in  a  mad  race  in  her  brain.  The 
bright  sun  touched  his  dark  hair  inclined  to 
curl,  as  he  lifted  his  hat  in  greeting.  Eleanor 
attempted  an  unconstrained  smile,  but  one  look 
in  his  face  taught  her  that  she  could  no  longer 
escape  him.  Half  frightened,  she  arose  as  if  to 
attempt  escape;  her  color  came  and  went  rap- 
idly ;  her  heart  was  palpitating  fiercely ;  and  she 
stood,  one  hand  pressed  against  it  as  if  to  still 
its  tumultuous  beating.  Still  his  eyes  searched 
her  face  and  would  not  release  her  own;  held 
her  spell-bound  beneath  his  gaze,  where  ador- 
ing love  stood  plainly  forth.  He  caught  her 
hands.  ''There  is  no  other  way  for  me,"  he 


220  THE  JUDGMENT 

told  her,  "but  to  go."  She  bent  her  head,  but 
did  not  answer.  "I  must  not  stay — my  love 
would  bring  disaster." 

"That  could  not  be,"  she  whispered,  her  eyes 
alight,  forgetting  all  but  love. 

His  eyes  were  reading  hers,  and  the  secrets 
there  laid  bare,  set  his  heart  to  faster  beating. 
Each  read  in  other  eyes,  the  story  that  has  no 
need  of  words,  and  despite  the  coming  parting, 
neither  would  forbear  to  read.  But  the  silence 
ended.  "Just  once — let  me  say  it."  His 
hands  held  hers  against  his  breast ;  his  eyes  still 
pleaded,  although  his  lips  dared  not  express  his 
longing. 

"You  are— I  know — not  mine,  but — I  love 
you — love  you — love  you.  Let  me  love  you 
enough  to  go." 

The  tears  that  filled  her  eyes  were  half  of 
pain,  but  the  other  half  of  joy,  at  his  acknowl- 
edged love,  and  its  answer  in  her  heart. 

"A  telegram  for  Mrs.  Manning,  ma'am,"  an- 
nounced Mrs.  LeNoir's  servant.  When  she 
saw  Eleanor's  face,  Mrs.  LeNoir  asked  quickly: 
"Oh!  what  is  it!" 

"I  must  go  to-day,"  Eleanor  answered, 
handing  her  the  message : 

1 '  Meet  me  at  Asheville,  Thursday.  Must  see 
the  boy  at  once. 

"WILLIAM  MANNING." 


CHAPTER  XV 

ELEANOR  found  Manning  awaiting  her  coming, 
apparently  possessed  by  the  demons  of  unrest 
and  discontent. 

At  one  time,  he  discovered  cause  for  com- 
plaint in  her  every  action,  then  suddenly  a 
change  would  come,  and  in  his  embrace  she 
found  greater  punishment  than  his  displeasure 
held. 

"I  have  given  up  all  other  women,"  he  as- 
sured her,  again  and  again;  "I  care  nothing 
for  them  now,  not  one." 

If,  before  she  reached  North  Carolina,  her 
marriage  had  grown  irksome,  it  now  became  so 
deep,  so  vile  an  ignominious  distress,  that  each 
look,  each  touch  and  each  word  of  passing  ten- 
derness from  him  renewed  her  torture. 

"If  he  beat  me  instead,"  she  moaned  to  her- 
self in  the  solitude;  "if  I  could  only  choose 
again  the  insults  and  the  bare-faced  neglect 
which  he  gave  me  before  my  baby  came.  But 
this,  this  horrible  loving  on  his  part,  while  all 
the  time  my  soul  cries  for  another— oh!  my 
God,  let  it  end  some  way!" 


222  THE  JUDGMENT 

But  if  Manning  saw,  he  did  not  suffer  from 
it.  He  was  quite  well  content  since  she  had 
given  him  a  child.  "She  was  never  very  lov- 
ing," he  told  himself,  when  her  haste  to  quit 
his  arms  could  not  be  hid.  "When  will  you 
learn  to  love  me,  too?"  he  asked  her,  catching 
her  unaware,  rapt  in  the  child,  murmuring  her 
devotion  in  his  ear.  "He  makes  me  love  you 
more,"  he  explained  in  painful  detail;  and  she 
must  listen  with  her  mother  love  crushed  down 
and  beaten  back  into  her  heart  by  the  flood  of 
hate  for  him  fast  rising.  "If  I  could  only  un- 
derstand you,"  he  argued.  "Your  face  is  al- 
most guilty  when  I  come  upon  you  with  the  boy. 
You  are  always  loving  him,  and  why  not  me? 
I  cannot  understand  you." 

"Would  to  God  you  did,"  she  raged,  when 
he  left  her,  unappeased.  "Oh!  that  I  might 
make  you  understand  with  hands  to  rend  and 
tear,  with  feet  to  crush  and  lips  to  tell  of  loath- 
ing. If  I  might  only  dare  express  my  hate  of 
you — you  beast.  You,  who  made  of  me  what 
he  would  call  me,  if  he  knew  it  all.  You  sunk 
me  in  this  hell  of  anguish  where  I  can  look 
above  and  see  and  long  for  my  lost  mate,  and 
the  love  I  might  have  had.  Oh,  my  God! — or 
if  I  dare  not  say  my  God,  who  feel  so  lost,  so 
sunk  in  infamy  and  the  sins  of  my  hated  bond- 
age, then  to  the  God  of  pity,  God  of  mercy,  let 


THE  JUDGMENT  223 

me  pray,  to  end  it.  Grant  me  my  liberty,  O 
God!  or  let  me  die." 

Four  weeks  she  spent  with  Manning— spent 
them,  since  she  must,  in  the  way  the  law  pro- 
vides, till  every  heartbeat  of  soul  grew  muti- 
nous and  mad. 

"I  must  leave  you  to-morrow,"  he  told  her 
one  morning,  after  his  mail  had  come,  ' l  but  not 
for  long.  I  will  return  as  soon  as  possible." 

But  even  in  his  absence,  her  self-torture  re- 
mained, for  as  long  as  there  is  life,  there  is 
conscience  to  remember ;  there  is  a  heart  to  long 
for  happiness,  and  to  sicken  when  it  is  denied, 
and  even  with  her  child,  a  change  had  come. 
He  was  no  longer  now  an  undiluted  joy,  for  in 
their  intercourse,  a  strange  new  note  had  crept, 
and  she  had  grown  to  see  in  all  his  baby  ways 
a  likeness,  faint,  intangible,  and  perhaps,  imag- 
inary, to  him  who  filled  her  thoughts.  The  idea 
tantalized  and  pursued  her  to  a  state  that  bor- 
dered upon  sickness.  Her  face  grew  white  and 
drawn,  and  round  her  large,  dark  eyes  misery 
cast  its  shadows. 

"Muddy,  don't  ky.  I  lub  you."  The  baby 
voice  was  sweet  with  the  wish  to  comfort  her, 
and  the  child  reached  up  to  her  loving  arms,  in 
whose  shelter  her  trembling  lips  and  brimming 
eyes  found  refuge.  Then  Gregory  came.  The 
spring  air  was  cool  towards  evening  and  the 


224  THE  JUDGMENT 

fire  in  the  grate  cast  a  fitful  light  on  the  two 
before  it  locked  in  each  other's  arms.  Thus  he 
found  them.  The  little  head  grown  heavy,  the 
white  lids  drooped  over  the  dream-filled  eyes, 
Joe  lay  sleeping  in  his  mother 's  arms.  Against 
the  crimson  velvet  of  the  high-backed  chair, 
her  head  rested.  Another  pair  of  white  lids 
had  drooped  and  hid  her  tired  eyes.  She  slept 
and  did  not  hear  the  opening  door,  nor  the  voice 
of  the  maid  announcing  his  name.  The  door 
closed  softly  and  the  man  advanced  toward  the 
quiet  figures  half  hidden  in  the  big-armed  chair 
where  the  baby  lay,  clasped  in  his  mother's 
arms,  a  sweet  smile  on  his  face.  Upon  the 
mother's  face  no  lingering  trace  of  smiling 
could  be  seen.  Instead,  her  face  showed  signs 
of  suffering  that  pinched  it  into  unaccustomed 
sharpness.  The  dark  circles  beneath  the  eyes 
were  brought  out  cruelly,  in  the  flickering  glow 
of  the  fire.  Gazing  at  them,  the  watcher  caught 
his  breath  sharply.  At  the  slight  sound,  Elea- 
nor opened  her  eyes  towards  him.  She  did  not 
move,  but  gazed  at  him  as  if  still  asleep  and 
dreaming.  "You?"  Her  lips  framed  the 
word,  but  her  voice  was  hardly  audible. 

"Yes,  dear,  I,"  he  answered  softly,  holding 
out  his  hands. 

The  sound  of  his  voice  broke  the  sleepy  spell, 
and  the  quick  blood  flooded  her  face  with  its 


THE  JUDGMENT  225 

rosy  glow.  She  tried  to  rise,  still  holding  the 
sleeping  child.  "I  thought  I  dreamed,"  she 
murmured  in  confusion. 

"No,  I  have  come,"  he  told  her.  "I  could 
not,  would  not  stay  away,  since  I  have  heard  it 
all.  I  did  not  try  to  take  you  from  him  before 
I  knew  your  martyrdom;  but  now  that  I  do 
know  him  as  he  is,  you  shall  no  longer  stay. 
Mine,  in  our  hearts,  you  are  and  mine  before 
the  world  you  soon  shall  be."  He  took  from 
her  the  sleeping  child  and  laid  him  down,  still 
sleeping;  unconscious  witness  of  their  love. 

Eleanor  hardly  stirred.  Surprise  and  weak- 
ening joy  at  the  sight  of  him  half  stunned  her. 
Her  eyes  upon  his  held  him. 

"Speak,  dear  one,  speak,"  he  urged,  "tell 
me  that  you  are  glad." 

She  did  not  answer,  and  in  her  eyes,  he  read 
an  awful  fear. 

"Sweetheart!"  he  cried.  Slowly  she  shook 
her  head.  "No!  no!"  she  whispered  brokenly, 
and  at  the  words,  a  tear  found  freedom,  and 
marked  a  path  down  her  white  face.  With  sud- 
den force  he  caught  her  hands.  "Eleanor,  look 
at  me!  Look  up,  and  say  you  love  me.  That 
is  all  I  want  to  know.  Say  it.  If  you  love  me, 
tell  me.  Do  you  love  me?"  Still  no  answer 
but  a  soft  low  moan.  "Then  say  you  do  not 
love  me!"  His  voice  grew  harder,  and  he 


226  THE  JUDGMENT 


tightened  his  hold  with  cruel  force.  "Say  it; 
if  that  is  true,  say  it." 

"I  cannot,"  she  whispered  with  a  sob,  re- 
spondent to  his  masterful  command. 

It  was  she  who  spoke  at  last.  "Are  you 
sure?" 

"Sure?"  he  replied,  "Yes,  at  last,  thank  God, 
I  am  sure."  His  voice  was  reverent,  and  al- 
most grave. 

"No  matter  what  shall  come?"  she  asked 
softly.  In  a  louder  tone,  as  if  to  challenge  all 
the  world,  he  answered  her:  "Yes,  no  matter 
what  comes, — no  matter  who  says  'Nay' — be- 
yond all  obstacles,  above  and  over  all,  since 
your  heart  answers  you  are  mine." 

A  long,  long  minute  passed  ere  either  spoke 
again.  Folded  in  close  embrace,  he  held  her; 
heart  on  heart,  and  lip  on  lip,  revealing  all 
love's  secrets. 

The  next  day  driving  along  the  shady  road 
where  the  tall  trees  met  above  them,  and  all  was 
silent  in  the  deep  forest  shade,  a  sudden  im- 
pulse seized  him.  ' '  Eleanor, ' '  he  began, ' '  there 
is  a  thing  I  want  to  tell  you,  and  yet  I  hardly 
can.  I  know  you  love  me ;  you  prove  it  by  your 
eyes,  your  lips ;  all  your  sweet  self  repeats  the 
glorious  truth.  I  believe  you  have  given  me 
the  first  and  only  love  of  your  life.  Is  it  true, 
Eleanor?"  and  he  awaited  the  answer  which  he 


THE  JUDGMENT  227 

knew  would  come.  On  her  face  a  tender  smile 
appeared. 

"Yes,  dear,  but  for  you  and  little  Joe,  I  would 
not  have  known  what  love  means." 

"  'Tis  this  that  makes  my  story  hard  for 
me." 

In  sudden  fright  she  turned  to  him.  "You 
do  not  mean,  oh,  Hal,  you  do  not  mean  that  you 
have  not  given  me  all  your  heart ;  you  love  me 
Hal— you  love  me — say  you  do!" 

"Yes,  I  do  dear  one;  I  love  you  better  than 
the  world,  and  yet,  I  can't  explain  it  well, 
I  know, — there  was  a  time  when  you  had  a 
rival." 

"Oh,  Hal,  you  cannot  mean  it!  It  can't  be 
true!"  and  apprehension  shook  her  voice. 

"Not  now,  sweetheart,  not  now.  You  may  be 
sure  that  in  my  heart  there  lies  no  thought, 
that  is  not  yours.  No  image  but  your  own. 
'Tis  a  strange  story,  and  hard  to  understand, 
but  somehow  I  want  to  tell  you  now.  Once  on 
a  time  I  met  a  woman,  her  name  and  station 
does  not  matter.  She  may  be  beautiful  or  good, 
I  do  not  know.  I  did  not  know  her  long.  But 
this  is  where  my  story  lies.  I  met  her  under 
strange  circumstances;  when  she  was  sunk  in 
great  despair.  Her  anguish  broke  my  heart; 
has  tortured  me  for  years.  I  lost  her  as  com- 
pletely as  though  she  had  never  been,  and 


228  THE  JUDGMENT 

though  I  searched,  I  searched  in  vain;  I  could 
not  find  her.  None  other  took  her  place,  for 
her  soul  had  called  to  mine  in  that  hour  of  trial, 
and  mine  had  answered." 

His  voice  stopped.  Eleanor  said  not  a  word, 
but  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  as  though  she 
could  not  take  them  away.  He  felt  her  gaze, 
and  looked  past  her  between  the  trees. 

"I  was  never  satisfied  to  relinquish  the  hope 
of  meeting  her,"  he  at  last  went  on,  "until  you 
came.  When  I  saw  you,  your  coming  cast  be- 
hind me  every  other  thought,  for  I  knew  you 
for  mine,  at  once.  Now  I  have  ceased  to  think 
of  her,  or  if  I  do,  it  is  of  a  longing  satisfied,  for 
though  it  may  seem  strange,  dear,  try  to  under- 
stand, I  feel  besides  your  own  place  in  my  heart, 
you  have  also  taken  and  filled  hers." 

While  he  waited  for  her  reply,  Eleanor  dared 
not  trust  herself  to  speak. 

"Well,  dear?"  he  questioned,  since  he  must 
hear  her  voice. 

"It  is  well,  dear,"  she  whispered  when  she 
could,  "for  all  is  well  between  us." 

"I  knew  your  noble  heart,  dear  one,"  he  con- 
gratulated himself.  In  the  relief  of  having 
told  his  secret,  he  saw  nothing  but  love  in  Elea- 
nor's  eyes  as  he  kissed  her.  "I  am  so  glad  I've 
said  it,  dear.  Of  course,  it  was  nothing  at  all 
at  the  time — not  like  real  love  anyway,  but  I 


THE  JUDGMENT  229 

simply  could  not  Lave  a  secret  of  any  kind  be- 
tween us." 

"A  secret  between  ns,"  her  heart  repeated. 
"No!  No  I  I  will  not  think  of  it.  I  will  be 
happy  now." 

For  those  few  days  together,  Eleanor  shut 
her  ears  to  any  argument,  but  those  of  love. 
With  every  hour,  her  love  for  Gregory  seemed 
to  deepen,  and  his  for  her  was  boundless. 

When  conscience  tried  to  whisper,  she  crushed 
it  back.— "No,  no,  not  now,"  rejecting  all  its 
pleas.  But  no  human  force,  however  strong 
we  deem  it,  can  cope  with  the  divine  spark 
which  dwells  within  us  all.  For  a  time  we  may 
believe  that  we  can  silence  the  still  small  voice 
reminding  us  of  our  misdeeds,  but  in  the  end  it 
triumphs  over  all  our  arguments,  and  brings  us 
shamed  and  overtaken  to  the  realization  that  we 
have  tried  to  pit  our  feeble  human  strength 
against  the  powerful  forces  of  Almighty  God. 

And  it  was  thus  with  Eleanor.  Through  the 
days  they  spent  together  she  thrust  behind  her 
with  a  fevered  strength  all  her  other  thoughts, 
and  clung  to  Gregory.  She  did  not  know  that 
in  her  eyes  he  read  the  fears  that  lay  but  half 
asleep,  within  her  heart. 

"Just  a  little  while,"  she  pleaded,  when  he 
begged  her  to  hasten  the  suit  for  divorce. 
"Just  a  few  days  for  happiness  before  I  must 


230  THE  JUDGMENT 

go  into  all  these  awful  things  again."  And 
though  he  too  feared  that  which  cast  the  shad- 
ows, mirrored  in  her  eyes,  he  could  not  thrust 
her  out  of  their  new  paradise,  but  consenting  to 
delay,  held  her  close,  and  told  her  again  and 
again  the  story  to  which  she  so  eagerly  gave  ear 
— the  old,  old,  but  ever  new  story  of  man's  love 
for  woman,  and  man's  desire  for  woman's  love. 
While  her  lips  told  him,  her  eyes  repeated  the 
fulfillment  of  his  love,  and  the  love  which  stirred 
her  heart  responsive  to  his  wooing,  until  the 
fears  perforce  must  hide  again,  biding  their 
time. 

"Have  I  forgotten  you,  my  baby?"  she 
asked  herself  one  night,  as  she  sat  watching  the 
sleeping  child.  "Do  I  love  you  less  because  I 
now  can  love  him  too  ?  Ah !  no  it  is  not  so !  It 
shall  not  be  that  I  may  not  have  both.  Baby, 
baby,  drive  away  the  fears.  Do  not  let  me  even 
think  them.  You  are  mine  forever,  darling, 
and  I  dare  to  hope  that  he  shall  be." 

July  came,  and  the  days  over-ran  with  sun- 
shine. Somewhere,  July  may  not  be  the  month 
of  universal  choice,  but  in  Asheville  each  season 
as  it  comes,  displays  such  lavish  treasures  of 
beauty  and  delight,  that  the  onlooker  cries 
again;  "This  is  the  one  for  me." 

The  early  mornings  found  them  filled  with 
rapture  at  the  rare  delight  of  Nature's  loveli- 
ness when  she  wakes  from  her  sweet  refreshing 


,THE  JUDGMENT  231 

sleep,  and  gathers  together  her  colors,  her  odors 
and  her  songs,  like  a  siren  planning  to  enchant 
thereby  the  hearts  of  men. 

Through  the  fresh  morning,  each  moment  was 
a  pearl,  which  strung  themselves  into  the  hours 
to  circle  round  the  day;  each  hour  enfolded 
some  new  joy  for  love  helped  them  thereat,  and 
whispered  his  suggestions. 

The  full  moontime  expressed  the  fullness, 
and  the  passion  of  their  love.  Even  the  even- 
ings did  not  chill,  but  with  a  tender  sweet  caress 
lulled  them  to  sleep  with  love  and  joy  enthroned 
triumphant  in  their  hearts. 

For  more  than  a  week,  they  spent  the  time 
like  this,  but  then  a  summons  came  for  Gregory. 
1  'I  ought  to  go,"  he  said.  He  looked  at  Elea- 
nor with  eyes  that  seemed  to  say  he  could  not. 

"But  you  must,  Harold  dear,"  she  answered 
him  in  quick  decision  for  his  interests,  even  if 
against  love's  sake. 

"It  can't  be  long,  and  I'll  wait  for  you  here, 
thinking  of  you  all  the  time." 

"And  loving  me?"  he  asked,  not  from  doubt, 
but  for  the  sake  of  hearing  once  again  the  sweet 
assurance. 

"Yes,  loving,  loving;  every  minute,  every 
hour,  with  all  my  soul,  with  every  fibre,  every 
beat  of  my  heart  which  is  yours, ' '  she  answered, 
pressed  close  against  him.  Thus  again  they 
each  forgot  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IN  the  days  that  followed  Gregory's  departure, 
Eleanor  roamed  with  little  Joe  over  the  beauti- 
ful grounds,  played  hide  and  seek  in  the  maze, 
rowed  on  the  lake,  swung  under  the  trees,  or 
lay  beneath  them,  listening  to  the  stories  told 
by  the  winds  and  repeated  by  the  rustling 
leaves.  Many  fairy  stories  were  invented  dur- 
ing that  time,  trying  to  forget  her  loneliness  in 
the  pleasure  of  the  child. 

"Do  you  love  me  sweetheart?"  she  asked, 
her  heart  hungering  for  the  assent  which  she 
knew  would  come. 

"Ma'am,"  with  quick  assurance,  then  with 
a  flood  of  tenderness,  he  flung  his  little  body 
on  her  as  she  lay  upon  the  soft  green  grass. 
"I  love  my  muddy  lee  bes',  lee  bes  in  lee  worl," 
he  declared,  holding  her  tight. 

They  clung  close  for  a  sweet  moment ;  mother 
and  child  in  that  embrace,  the  sweetest  known 
to  life. 

There  may  be  moments  when  man's  love  and 
woman's  seem  so  full  and  so  complete  that 
nothing  could  exceed  its  rapture,  but  this  is  not 
to  be  compared  to  the  ecstasy  that  floods  a 
mother's  heart  when  her  child  clings  to  her  with 

232 


.THE  JUDGMENT  233 

love  and  loving  words.  Each,  tone  of  the  bahy  's 
voice  is  to  her  a  jewel  of  the  purest  ray,  each 
smile  a  priceless  treasure,  each  touch  a  rapture 
unparalleled. 

Sometimes  these  mothers  do  not  seem  to 
know  it  till  the  baby's  form  is  still  and  cold, 
the  sweet  voice  forever  silenced,  the  little  hands 
stretch  out  no  more,  and  the  smile  is  no  longer 
seen.  But  there  are  others  whose  eyes  open  to 
these  joys  when  first  their  arms  enfold  the 
longed-for  child.  To  such  as  these,  fate  is  in- 
deed a  friend  when  she  has  given  them  not  only 
love  in  this  sweet  guise,  but  added  to  their  lot 
a  passion  and  enduring  love  for  the  father  of 
their  children. 

One  afternoon  when  driving,  Joe's  quick  ears 
heard  a  burst  of  music,  and  he  turned  his  head 
demanding:  "Muddy,  hear  lee  mugit?  I  want 
to  go,"  till  they  drove  toward  the  sound. 

As  they  neared  the  open  square  around  which 
Asheville  is  built,  the  source  of  the  music  was 
discovered  in  a  Salvation  Army  band  upon  one 
corner. 

Several  women  and  three  men  composed  the 
band.  The  faces  of  the  women  bore  proof  of 
long  hours  of  work,  and  much  exposure;  but 
amongst  them  all,  there  was  not  one  whose 
countenance  did  not  reveal  a  quiet  joy. 

Upon  one  homely  face  there  shone  such  a 


234  THE  JUDGMENT 

light  of  joy,  that  it  attracted  Eleanor's  special 
attention.  Never  in  her  life  before,  had  she 
come  so  nearly  into  touch  with  the  Salvation 
Army,  and  before  this  time  she  had,  as  have 
many  others  who  do  not  seriously  consider 
them,  given  them  a  tardy  tolerance  very  nearly 
like  contempt. 

Joe,  too,  was  interested.  He  stood  upon  the 
seat,  his  big  eyes  fixed  upon  them  as  they  sang, 
to  the  unmusical  accompaniment  of  their  bat- 
tered instruments.  Their  songs  were  in  no  de- 
gree artistic,  and  there  was  among  them  all,  not 
a  single  voice  to  strike  a  sensitive  ear  pleas- 
antly ;  however,  there  was  something  that  could 
not  be  overlooked,  which  rose  from  the  small 
band  of  hard-worked,  common  place  street  mu- 
sicians, and  said  to  those  with  ears  to  hear,  "I 
come  from  God." 

Joe's  observant  eyes  recognized  the  presence 
there  of  something  he  had  not  often  seen,  and 
he  turned  to  the  older  intelligence  beside  him, 
demanding:  " Muddy,  shut  makes  lee  man  be 
so  glad?"  He  pointed  to  the  one  whose  face 
shone  brightest,  the  one  about  whom  Eleanor 
too  was  wondering. 

"What  makes  the  man  glad,  darling,"  she 
repeated  after  him,  while  all  at  once  she  asked 
herself — "Do  I  know?  Can  I  understand  his 
joy?" 


THE  JUDGMENT  235 

Her  soul  responded  to  the  query,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  the  answer  that  it  made 
struck  at  the  doors  of  her  heart  a  blow  that  re- 
sounded through  her  being. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  said,  and  her  voice 
sounded  dully  to  her  ear,  "I  do  not  know." 

Near  their  carriage,  stood  a  laughing  group 
of  girls  and  boys,  and  one,  more  forward  than 
the  rest,  laughed  loudly  as  she  said:  "I've  al- 
ways said  that  the  Salvation  Army  women  must 
be  consecrated  to  be  willing  to  wear  those  awful 
hats." 

At  the  laughter  following  her  remark,  one  of 
the  women  in  the  band  turned  toward  them,  and 
Eleanor  looked  well  into  her  face.  Although 
she  liad  heard  the  careless  words,  her  face 
showed  no  resentment.  Instead,  her  soft  gray 
eyes  seemed  filled  with  pity  for  the  one  who 
spoke,  and  for  the  others  who  had  laughed. 

She  had  risen  above  vanity,  and  with  a  saint's 
forbearance  spoke  to  the  girl. 

"Thank  you,  and  God  bless  you,  my  Sister," 
she  said;  and  the  girl  made  her  way  through 
the  crowd,  shamed  by  the  look  upon  the  wo- 
man's face. 

Again  Eleanor's  soul  whispered:  "I  do  not 
know  of  such  as  this." 

Those  who  possess  riches,  generally  answer 
the  voices  in  the  way  that  Eleanor  tried.  She 


236  THE  JUDGMENT 

gave  her  money;  and  the  sweet  half  sad  voice 
said  to  her  as  she  extended  it:  "God  bless  you, 
my  Sister." 

At  the  repeated  words  and  the  familiarity  of 
the  phrasing,  her  aristocratic  inner  self  shrunk 
back.  " Sister!"  it  whispered,  "Sister!  how 
insolent!' 

At  her  order,  the  carriage  moved  on,  but  the 
hours  could  not  dispel  the  impression  the 
singers  on  the  street  had  made.  Over  and  over 
she  saw  the  strange  light  that  irradiated  the 
homely  face  of  the  man,  and  again  and  again 
she  heard  the  words— "God  bless  you.  my 
Sister." 

Surely  there  was  no  insult  intended,  for  the 
soft  voice  was  like  a  benediction.  "Sister! 
What  did  it  mean?  Nothing  but  the  stock 
phrase  of  an  ignorant  sect;  religious  fanatics 
roaming  the  streets  making  a  public  exhibition 
of  themselves,"  she  repeated,  all  this  and  more, 
wooing  the  sleep  that  would  not  come  to  her. 
"Sister!  and  the  light  on  the  man's  face!" 
She  was  still  thinking  of  it  when  at  last  sleep 
came. 

How  often  has  it  been  that  we  have  waked 
from  sleep  at  once  deciding  to  arise  f  The  day 
held  something  of  too  much  import  for  us  to 
waste  the  early  hours  remaining  in  our  beds. 
Sleep  was  gone,  chased  far  away  by  a  strange 


THE  JUDGMENT  237 

presentiment  that  cannot  be  explained,  and  ever 
defies  description.  We  may  not  tell  of  it,  but 
we  all  know  it,  when  it  comes.  It  sets  our 
hearts  to  beating  to  a  faster  time,  and  sends 
our  blood  racing  in  our  veins,  lends  to  our  eyes 
a  new  brightness ;  making  ready  for  what  is  on 
its  way. 

That  day,  this  was  all  true  with  Eleanor. 
She  woke  early,  though  it  was  late  when  she 
had  gone  to  sleep.  As  soon  as  her  eyes  opened, 
she  knew  she  could  not  sleep  again.  The  very 
air  seemed  laden  with  a  secret  meant  for  her 
intelligence,  but  finding  a  barrier  could  not 
make  its  way  within.  "What  is  it?"  she  asked 
herself,  but  her  only  answer  was  the  memory 
of  a  street  musician's  homely  face,  filled  with 
a  strange  light  that  she  could  not  understand, 
and  the  voice  of  one  of  his  comrades  declaring 
her  "my  Sister." 

"How  foolish!"  she  cried  impatiently,  "I  am 
positively  silly  in  my  childish  nervousness,"  but 
despite  all  her  efforts,  the  memories  clung. 

To  break  into  her  persistent  thoughts,  she  de- 
cided to  make  a  morning  call.  Once  outside, 
the  motion  of  the  carriage,  and  the  brisk  breeze 
seemed  to  waken  her  to  other  things. 

When  she  reached  her  destination,  she  felt 
that  the  drive  had  done  her  good.  Her  friend 
met  her,  dressed  for  the  street,  and  Eleanor  ex- 


238  THE  JUDGMENT 

claimed:  "Oh!  what  will  you  think  of  me  I  I 
had  actually  forgotten  it  was  Sunday." 

Mrs.  Clayton  laughed,  and  would  not  hear  a 
word  of  all  she  said.  "No,  no,"  she  cried, 
"you  came  the  very  day  you  should,  for  now 
you  can  meet  the  Bishop." 

"The  Bishop!  What  Bishop?"  Eleanor  ex- 
claimed. 

"Why!  don't  you  know?  Do  you  never  read 
the  papers?"  Her  friend  laughed  at  her  mys- 
tified face. 

"I  read  the  papers,  but  I  haven't  read  any- 
thing about  a  Bishop,"  Eleanor  answered. 

"Well,  now  you  are  going  with  me  to  hear 
him.  He  is  to  dine  with  me  to-night,  and  I  will 
only  be  the  happier  if  you  will  consent  to  join 
us." 

"Oh,  no,  I  couldn't  do  that,  thank  you,"  Elea- 
nor replied.  "But  tell  me,  is  this  the  Texas 
Bishop  about  whom  the  Raleigh  papers  have 
printed  such  eulogies  lately?  You  surprised 
me  so,  that,  at  first,  I  did  not  think  of  him." 

"Yes,  it  is  he,  and  if  you  do  not  wish  to  lose 
a  rare  treat  you  will  come  with  me." 

Eleanor  knew  not  why,  for  she  very  seldom 
went  to  church,  but  she  was  persuaded  to  go. 
The  church  was  filled  with  a  softly  chastened 
light,  falling  through  the  window  in  shafts  of 
vari-colored  hues.  The  choir  had  not  come  in, 


THE  JUDGMENT  239 

but  already  there  was  present  that  spirit  of 
reverence  which  never  fails  to  affect  us. 

When  Mrs.  Clayton  sank  to  her  knees  before 
she  took  her  seat,  Eleanor  wondered  if  she 
really  prayed,  or  if  she  only  seemed  to  pray  be- 
cause it  is  the  habit  of  the  Episcopalians  to 
kneel  when  a  church  is  entered. 

Soon  the  organ  notes  were  heard ;  at  first  soft 
and  sweet  and  tender.  The  music  seemed  to 
describe  a  mighty  love.  Its  early  accents  were 
but  whispers,  telling  of  the  depths  beyond. 

Then  came  the  louder  notes,  richer,  stronger 
and  fuller,  as  if  the  love  behind  the  music  could 
no  longer  express  itself  in  whispers,  but  must 
pour  forth  its  strength  in  greater  volume. 

With  the  music  came  the  choir.  The  trium- 
phant processional  came  from  their  throats  as 
if  laden  with  the  full  forces  of  human  souls. 

The  rector  of  the  church  followed  the  choir, 
his  clear-cut,  almost  boyish  face  was  grave  but 
tender,  as  if  it  had  been  glorified  and  blessed 
by  the  ministry  to  which  he  had  been  called. 
After  him,  in  stately  dignity,  walked  the 
Bishop. 

Eleanor  could  not  forbear  a  long  look  at  him, 
as  he  passed  near  her,  and  as  she  looked,  an  in- 
ward recognition  of  his  magnetic  personality 
possessed  her.  Tall  and  impressive  of  car- 
riage, his  splendid  head,  with  its  fringe  of  sil- 


240  THE  JUDGMENT 

very  hair;  his  scholarly  face  where  mingled 
dignity  and  kindliness,  seemed  to  tell  the  charm 
of  the  man,  and  added  to  this  was  the  touch  of 
saintliness  given  by  his  lifetime's  work  for 
humanity. 

The  full  lace  ruffles  fell  over  his  hands 
crossed  together  as  he  walked  toward  that  altar 
on  which  he  laid  his  talents ;  dedicated  and  con- 
secrated his  life's  abilities  to  the  service  of  his 
Master.  Behind  him,  fell  the  rich  folds  of  his 
black  satin  gown,  which  opened  on  his  breast 
displaying  the  sheer  whiteness  underneath. 
The  stole  fell  on  either  side,  bordering  the  black 
gown's  opening,  and  against  the  white,  the 
colors  of  its  rich  embroidery  were  seen.  From 
his  shoulders  hung  his  scarlet  Oxford  cape,  the 
brightest  spot  in  all  that  sober-hued  procession. 

When  the  opening  hymn  was  finished,  the 
Bishop's  voice  rang  out;  "The  Lord  is  in  His 
holy  temple;  let  all  the  earth  keep  silence  be- 
fore Him."  No  one  ever  heard  that  great 
voice  unless  it  thrilled  him.  Even  its  tones  are 
eloquent,  and  when  such  tones  are  joined  to 
noble  thoughts  grandly  presented,  then  indeed 
you  feel  the  spell  it  casts  around  you. 

If  some  divines  save  themselves,  their  voices 
and  their  strength,  solely  for  their  sermons,  this 
one  did  not.  Throughout  the  impressive  serv- 
ice, his  full,  rich,  sonorous  tones  pervaded  the 


THE  JUDGMENT  241 

place ;  filled  it  with  music,  sung  through  the  air 
with  a  triumphant  note,  or  sunk  to  pleadings  in 
the  fervent  prayers.  Every  gesture,  every  pose 
was  grace,  though  all  unconscious  of  it.  On  his 
knees,  his  figure  as  well  as  his  voice  seemed 
pleading  at  God's  throne  for  mercy  and  for- 
giveness for  the  souls  he  led;  the  sheep  within 
his  fold. 

No  quick  mumbling  of  unintelligible  words 
from  him.  Every  word,  every  syllable  was  as 
clear  as  a  drop  of  dew,  and  like  the  dew,  seemed 
meant  to  embellish  into  greater  beauty  the  flow- 
ers of  his  speech. 

Eleanor  felt  as  if  some  overweening  force 
had  come  down  from  another  land,  and  grasp- 
ing her  trembling  heart  bade  it  awake  and  re- 
ceive that  greatest  gift,  the  realization  of  the 
immortality  of  human  souls. 

Throughout  the  service  she  felt  this  power, 
but  the  first  impression  of  that  wonderful  voice 
never  left  her.  Through  the  humble  confession 
of  human  un worthiness,  she  heard  its  clear 
tones,  over  the  hum  of  the  congregation's 
mingled  voices.  It  stirred  her  slumbering  con- 
science, "Almighty  and  most  merciful  Father; 
We  have  erred  and  strayed  from  Thy  ways  like 
lost  sheep.  We  have  followed  too  much  the 
devices  and  desires  of  our  own  hearts.  We 
have  off  ended  against  Thy  holy  laws.  We  have 


242  THE  JUDGMENT 

left  undone  those  things  which  we  ought  to  have 
done;  and  there  is  no  health  in  us." 

In  the  unhappy  past,  sorrow,  suffering  and 
bitterness  had  filled  her  heart  and  mind,  and 
left  no  room  for  the  tender  sentiments  of 
Christianity  to  take  firm  root  and  if  perchance 
one  found  its  way  into  the  darkness  of  her  sad- 
dened heart,  a  ministering  angel  to  her  soul,  the 
straying  beam  of  light  was  soon  extinguished 
by  the  demons  of  the  nether  world,  resentment, 
hate  and  bitterness  worse  than  death,  because 
it  will  not  die. 

Even  her  idolatrous  love  for  her  child  had 
not  been  unmixed  with  taint.  There  is  but  one 
thing  that  ever  can  remove  from  human  hearts 
the  stings  of  conscience.  This  is  God's  love, 
and  God's  forgiveness.  Only  by  His  expiation, 
can  we  hope  to  have  our  dire  misdeeds  washed 
out. 

But  Eleanor  had  not  this  comfort.  She  had 
grown  to  scoff  at  the  reputed  religion  which 
prays  on  Sunday,  sinning  doubly  all  the  week. 

Even  in  the  tenderness  of  mother  love,  she 
could  never  forget  the  desperation  preceding 
the  coming  of  her  child,  and  gazing  into  his 
eyes,  she  often  mused:  "To  have  this  joy,  I  had 
to  sink" — but  as  often  as  it  came  she  fought 
back  the  dreadful  thought,  afraid  of  the  final 
words. 


THE  JUDGMENT  243 

All  this  and  more  came  back  to  her,  on  her 
knees  listening  to  that  voice,  and  as  she  heard, 
her  soul  made  its  first  yearning  cry  for  higher 
things  in  its  response  to  the  congregation's 
acknowledgment  of  sinfulness.  Through  all 
the  service,  all  the  prayers,  the  words  seemed 
meant  for  her.  ''How  blind,  how  blind,  I  have 
been!"  she  murmured,  "and  oh  my  God,  how 
sinful!" 

Then  came  that  story  which  means  every- 
thing to  the  world.  The  story  of  Christ's  love, 
His  life,  His  suffering  and  His  death.  She  had 
known  it  always  as  all  civilization  knows  it. 
She  believed  the  story?  Yes,  of  course,  she 
knew  the  truth,  but  not  before  had  the  realiz- 
ation come  that  it  meant  very  much  to  her. 
Now,  all  at  once,  she  knew.  That  immortal 
part  of  humanity  stirred  and  whispered  con- 
demnation of  her  sin.  It  told  her,  too,  the 
story  of  her  weakness;  it  made  her  know  that 
only  by  God's  far  reaching  grace  could  she  hope 
to  be  saved  from  the  pit  her  sins  had  dug. 

She  could  no  longer  silence  that  insistent 
ivoice.  It  shook  her  soul  with  a  power  she 
hitherto  had  never  known.  It  told  her  that  she 
need  not  hope  to  silence  it,  or  again  to  thrust 
it  back  into  oblivion,  refusing  to  hear  its  cries. 
No,  no,  not  now !  She  knew  herself,  and  as  she 
knew,  she  shuddered  from  the  knowledge  that 


244  THE  JUDGMENT 

had  come.  "Condemned!  Lost!  By  my  own 
acts.  Lost ! ' '  conscience  cried,  bewailing  all  its 
sins  and  sinfulness. 

The  knowledge  of  unworthiness  possessed 
her  soul.  She  felt  that  she  had  put  herself  be- 
yond the  pale.  "I  have,"  she  cried,  "only  my- 
self to  blame.  I  have  turned  my  back  on  God ! 
I  have  refused  to  hear  Him,  when  I  knew  full 
well  what  He  would  say ;  and  now  will  He  hear 
me?  Can  I  expect  Him  to  listen  to  me  when  I 
refused  to  think  of  Him?  Oh,  my  blindness! 
And  now,  perhaps,  I  am  too  late.  Perhaps  I 
have  let  slip  the  time  when  I  might  have  claimed 
His  grace.  Have  I?  Have  I?" 

Her  soul  had  truly  wakened,  and  its  sore 
distress  brought  to  her  face  that  look,  which, 
once  seen,  is  not  soon  forgotten. 

And  indeed,  there  is  no  tragedy  greater  than 
that  which  comes  when  for  the  first  time  we  see 
and  understand  our  own  unworthiness.  That 
first  discerning  look  into  the  inky  chasms  we 
have  called  our  hearts,  when  instead  of  the  love 
and  light  we  thought  therein,  we  find  the  dark- 
ness peopled  with  the  leering  visages  of  sin  and 
death. 

The  Bishop's  sermon  was  such  as  few  can 
preach.  As  he  began  to  speak,  everyone  within 
the  portals  of  the  church  left  his  own  thoughts 
to  hearken  to  the  beauties  of  those  which  he 
expressed  for  them. 


THE  JUDGMENT  245 

He  did  not  tell  of  God  as  dealing  vengeance 
with  a  mighty  arm.  He  did  not  speak  of  an 
unending  hell,  where  flames  unceasingly  con- 
sume the  sufferers  who  have  sinned  too  many 
times.  He  did  not  threaten  of  the  wrath  of 
God  against  a  sinful  world.  He  told  of  God 
omnipotent,  forgiving  all,  and  in  the  end,  ex- 
tending mercy  with  a  gentle  hand  to  those  who 
beg  Him  for  it.  He  told  of  pity  for  the  suffer- 
ings of  our  hearts.  He  offered  surcease  for 
our  sorrows ;  he  promised  healing  for  our  pains. 

He  said  no  mother's  love  was  half  so  soft  as 
that  which  filled  the  gentle  breast  of  Him  who 
gave  His  life  that  we  might  live  forever;  who 
bent  with  loving  touch,  and  blessed  the  little 
children  in  His  path.  He  told  them  of  the 
erring  woman  brought  to  Him  for  punishment, 
and  how  He  lifted  her  and  dried  her  sorrowing 
tears  with  gentle,  pitying  words. 

He  said  we  must  not  spend  our  lives  in  sad 
repinings,  even  if  the  backward  path  were 
strewn  with  sins  as  black  as  night.  "The 
future  is  your  own,"  he  said,  "to  make  it  what 
you  will" ;  begged  them  to  take  it  as  a  gift  that 
day,  fresh  from  the  hands  of  God. 

"Do  not,"  he  cried,  "think  to  undo  the  past. 
'Tis  God's  will  that  this  cannot  be.  Let  it  lie, 
just  as  it  is.  God  will  attend  to  that.  The 
future  is  for  you  to  fill  with  righteous  deeds; 
with  deeds  of  love,  deeds  of  kindness,  deeds  of 


246  THE  JUDGMENT 

mercy  and  of  charity.  If  you  do  this,  'tis  all 
that  you  can  do.  Lay  these  gifts  at  your  Mas- 
ter's feet,  and  He  will  bend  a  smiling  face,  and 
greet  you  when  you  come. ' ' 

No  one  who  heard  him  could  have  gone  away 
without  the  feeling  in  his  heart,  that  he  had 
listened  to  a  message  sent  from  God,  and  that 
he  who  bore  it  was  inspired  by  Him,  to  tell  them 
of  God's  mercy  and  God's  love. 

Eleanor's  heart  had  bled  before,  but  with  the 
sweet  assurance  of  his  words,  the  anguish  lifted 
just  a  little  way,  and  hope  appeared — a  tender, 
timid  ray  of  hope  for  mercy  undeserved.  Yet, 
timid  as  it  was,  it  lived  and  grew  and  blossomed 
and  would  not  be  thrust  aside. 

At  every  doubt  assailing  it,  she  heard  the 
Bishop's  voice  again  declare  a  way  whereby  her 
hopes  might  live,  and  when  he  raised  his  hands 
above  them  in  a  final  benediction,  she  knew 
that  never  in  the  world  would  she  be  again 
content  until  she  had  that  wondrous  peace  of 
which  he  said:  "The  peace  of  God  which  pass- 
eth  all  understanding  keep  your  hearts  and 
minds  in  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God,  and  of 
His  Son,  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord ;  and  the  bless- 
ing of  God  Almighty,  the  Father,  the  Son  and 
the  Holy  Ghost,  be  amongst  you  and  remain 
with  you  always." 

She  went  home,  but  could  not  rest,  for  she  had 


THE  JUDGMENT  247 

not  that  peace  for  which  her  heart  was  longing. 
To  communion  with  God  she  could  not  gain  ad- 
mittance. ' '  Outside  the  pale ! ' '  she  cried  again, 
"but  I  want  to  be— oh,  God,  I  want  to  come 
within ! ' ' 

The  hours  of  the  day  were  very  long.  Over 
and  over  temptation  came,  whispering :  ' '  Put  it 
away.  You  are  happy ;  put  away  the  thought." 
But  Satan's  wiles  cannot  prevail  against  the 
might  of  God;  neither  can  he  draw  back  from 
Him  a  human  soul  that  clings  and  prays  and 
wishes  to  be  saved,  for  after  all,  it  is  God's 
hand  upholding  us.  Our  feeble  strength  would 
soon  succumb,  our  grasp  on  that  great  Rock  of 
Ages  would  weaken  till  we  fell  again  into  the 
darkness,  whence  we  came,  but  God  lends  to  our 
feeble  efforts  His  own  mighty  power,  and  with 
it  we  can  conquer  all. 

"We  beseech  Thee  to  hear  us,  good  Lord." 
She  heard  again  the  Bishop's  voice,  as  in  mem- 
ory his  earnest  tones  came  to  her,  and  she 
fancied  she  could  hear  him  praying:  "Son  of 
God,  we  beseech  Thee  to  hear  us.  Oh,  Lamb  of 
God,  who  takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world; 
grant  us  Thy  peace.  Oh!  Lamb  of  God,  who 
takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world;  have  mercy 
upon  us,"  and  to  this  her  burdened  soul  re- 
sponded: "Have  mercy,  Lord,  have  mercy." 

She  knew  so  little  of  God.    No  Christian  in- 


248  THE  JUDGMENT 

fluenee  had  surrounded  her  youth,  and  she  had 
thought  that  she  could  live  without  Him.  But 
now  she  knew  it  was  not  so.  Her  boasted 
strength  was  gone.  Now,  all  for  which  she 
dared  to  hope  was  mercy  and  forgiveness,  and 
an  opportunity  to  prove  her  late  repentance. 
Though  God  offers  us  this  chance,  we  do  not 
always  grasp  it  when  it  comes.  But  this  was 
not  so  with  Eleanor.  ' '  I  wish  I  might  see  him, '  * 
she  mused,  until  the  impulse  was  too  strong  to 
resist  it  longer. 

She  wrote  a  note  to  the  Bishop  at  her  friend's 
house,  asking:  "Can  you  spare  a  little  while  to 
a  soul  in  deep  distress?  If  it  is  not  too  much 
to  ask  of  you,  my  carriage  will  await  you." 
And  as  soon  as  he  read  the  words,  the  Bishop 
came. 

She  was  waiting  for  him,  in  a  fever  of  unrest, 
for  fear  he  might  refuse.  As  he  entered  the 
door,  she  went  toward  him  rapidly.  "Oh!  sir, 
I  feared  you  might  not  come,"  she  said.  Her 
face  showed  her  distress,  and  to  his  experienced 
eyes,  it  told  her  story — the  story  of  an  anxious 
soul. 

"Not  come,  my  child,"  he  answered,  and 
when  she  heard  his  gentle  voice,  her  heart 
leaped  in  her  breast  with  renewed  hope.  "I 
trust  I  never  may  refuse  to  come.  I  am,  you 
know,  God's  servant." 


THE  JUDGMENT  249 

"Oh,  teach  me,  sir,  I  beg!"  the  eager  words 
came  fast,  "the  way  to  go — until  to-day,  I  did 
not  know  that  I  was  lost.  But  now  I  see ;  I  feel 
that  I  have  gone  so  far  astray  that  God  can 
hardly  hear  me  when  I  cry.  I  could  not  bear 
the  awful  fear  that  I  have  gone  too  far  to  find 
my  way  again,  and  so  I  dared  to  send  for  you. 
Perhaps  He  will  hear  your  voice.  Tell  me, 
does  He  refuse  forgiveness  when  you  ask  Him 
for  itt" 

The  old  man's  face  was  very  tender,  and  his 
voice  was  very  sweet  as  he  replied:  "You  need 
not  fear.  God  never  will  refuse  to  hear.  He 
always  grants  us  mercy  and  forgiveness." 

"Always?"  she  questioned  further.  "Is 
there  no  doubt?  Are  you  sure  of  this?" 

"So  sure  that  all  of  life  grows  pale  beside 
the  splendor  of  that  certainty,"  he  reassured. 
"There  is  no  other  thing  but  this,  that  makes 
life  worth  the  living.  Even  to  the  brightest  lives 
there  come  some  days  of  pain,  and  then  we  feel 
the  glory  of  God's  love  and  the  bright  promise 
of  that  great  world  to  come." 

"I  do  not  know  your  heart,  my  child,"  he 
spoke  again,  "but  be  sure  God  knows.  Be- 
tween Himself  and  us,  there  is  nothing  hidden ; 
we  need  not  try  to  hide,  and  when  we  love,  we 
do  not.  Our  sorrows  and  our  sins  are  our 
Gethsemanes.  Through  them  we  all  must  pass 


250  THE  JUDGMENT 

ere  we  can  share  the  glories  of  the  resurrection 
of  our  souls." 

Every  word  the  Bishop  said  poured  healing 
on  her  bleeding  heart.  His  very  presence 
seemed  a  blessing,  while  his  kind  words  and 
face  and  voice  filled  her  aching  heart  with  hope' 
and  reassurance. 

When  at  last  he  rose  to  leave  and  she  was 
trying  to  express  her  gratitude,  he  stopped  her, 
"No,  no,  my  child.  Thank  God,  not  me.  It  is 
His  gift  you  have  to-day." 

"But  you  came  to  me  a  stranger,"  she  per- 
sisted. 

"Have  you  forgotten  that  Christ  came  to  the 
world  when  it  had  strayed  away  in  sin?  I  can 
do  so  little  while  the  Master  can  do  all.  Give  all 
your  thanks  to  Him."  And  after  he  had  gone, 
she  stood  where  he  had  left  her.  Her  hands 
still  felt  his  gentle  touch,  her  heart  still  beat 
responsive  to  his  farewell  blessing.  "God  the 
Father,  God  the  Son  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost, 
be  with  you  forevermore." 

When  he  was  there  it  seemed  an  easy  thing 
to  say:  "I  will  confess  my  sins  to  God,"  but 
after  he  was  gone,  her  greatest  trial  came. 

No  longer  supported  by  his  gracious  kind- 
ness, reminding  her  of  the  great  love  and  pity 
and  all  sufficing  loving-kindness  of  the  Heavenly 
Father,  she  had  now  no  one  to  succor  her  in 
her  hour  of  agony. 


THE  JUDGMENT  251 

"Must  I  give  him  up?  Must  I  slay  our  love? 
No!  no!"  Her  heart  cried  out  in  agony.  "It 
will  kill  me  to  forsake  love  now.  Oh,  God,  not 
that !  Let  me  take  some  other  way — not  that ; 
at  least,  not  now  that  love  has  come;  not  now." 

But  to  temptation's  whispers  her  awakened 
conscience  cried: 

"No,  no,  1  dare  not  even  tell  him  why  I  go. 
For  my  sin,  I  must  forever  bear  in  silent  lone- 
liness our  secret.  If  I  should  tell  him,  he 
would  claim  me  all  the  more,  and  make  retreat 
impossible,  by  the  knowledge  of  his  parent's 
claim,  but  since  he  does  not  know,  and  if  I 
leave  him  now,  life  may  some  day  again  smile 
on  him.  Yes,  for  my  wickedness,  I  must  re- 
sign the  man  I  love,  or  sink  to  everlasting 
death  beneath  God's  wrath.  It  is  His  will  that 
I  must  expiate  my  sin  by  giving  up  for  all  this 
world,  the  man  I  love— for  how  I  love  him,  God 
alone  can  know— as  mine — my  own — and,  oh, 
God ! — forgive  me,  as  the  father  of  my  child. 

It  was  a  long  and  weary  battle  before  she 
reached  the  end;  before  she  conquered  her 
heart  that  begged  protection. 

Then  she  wrote  the  long  despairing  letter, 
telling  him  of  her  decision  to  return  to  Man- 
ning ;  told  him  how  her  soul  had  awakened  and 
with  every  breath  condemned  the  course  they 
planned.  "I  never  can  or  will  deny  our  love, 
for  that  is  all  the  world  to  me,"  she  wrote,  "but 


252  THE  JUDGMENT 

let  us  place  it  past  our  own  temptation,  and 
try  to  live  and  hope  while  living  here,  for  God's 
forgiveness  in  the  end  where  He  may  grant  to 
us  eternal  life  together." 

Through  the  long  hours  she  wrote,  pouring 
out  to  him  her  aching  heart,  and  telling  him 
all  the  temptations  which  her  love  for  him  had 
whispered,  and  telling  him  at  the  end,  her 
soul's  replies  to  all  love's  pleading. 

"To  leave  him  and  go  back  to  that— my 
God!"  she  cried,  upon  her  knees,  late  in  the 
night,  beside  the  sleeping  child.  "It  is  Geth- 
semane,  and  to-morrow,  when  I  take  up  my 
cross  again,  begins  my  crucifixion.  Oh!  help 
me,  Christ,  I  beg.  I  see  the  way  that  I  must  go, 
but  help  me,  help  me,  or  I  cannot  press  ahead. 
Gentle  Savior,  help  me.  Teach  me  to  wear  my 
crown  of  thorns  and  in  the  end  let  me  take  my 
little  child  and  follow  Thee  the  best  I  can." 

Joe,  wakened  at  the  sobs,  and  frightened  at 
her  tortured  face,  clung  to  her,  weeping. 

"Hush!  hush!  my  child."  Her  arms  around 
him,  they  clung  together  in  the  silent  night. 
' '  We  have  each  other.  Love  me,  Joe,  for  upon 
earth  I  have  no  one  but  you.  Oh!  help  me, 
baby,  by  your  love,  and,  dear  Christ,  help  me  to 
say — 'Thy  will  be  done.'  " 


WHEN  Gregory  came  the  next  morning,  his 
step  was  alert  and  his  face  was  eager.  He 
hastened  to  his  room  and  there  he  found  Elea- 
nor's letter.  The  opening  words  lined  his  face, 
before  so  full  of  happiness. 

"Leave  me  now!  Oh,  God!  It  shall  not 
be."  He  would  not  read  it  all,  in  his  haste  to 
find  her. 

At  his  sudden  coming,  she  rose  with  a  stifled 
cry  of  longing,  and  at  love  denied  full  utter- 
ance. He  caught  her  close  and  held  her. 
"You  are  mine,"  he  told  her,  "mine  by  God's 
almighty  law  of  love.  Let  no  man  dare  to  come 
between  us." 

"Wait — listen,"  she  insisted. 

"No— even  to  your  own  arguments  I  am 
deaf.  I  will  not  hear  them.  Not  even  you 
shall  take  my  love  away  from  me — not  now." 

"You  must!  It  is  decided  by  a  higher 
power.  Oh,  love,  my  dear,  dear  love,  can  you 
not  see,  do  you  not  know  that  we  must  part?" 

"Part!  No!  I  refuse  to  listen."  He  held 
her  tight  despite  her  feeble  efforts  to  release 
herself.  "There  is  not  in  all  the  world,  one 

258 


254  THE  JUDGMENT 

who  comes  between  us  now."  His  eyes  and 
lips  on  hers,  his  arm  defying  parting  as  he  held 
her  close  against  him.  " After  this?"  he  ques- 
tioned, when  his  lips  left  hers. 

11  After  all,"  she  told  him. 

"You  are  mad,  Eleanor.  You  do  not  know 
what  you  propose."  His  voice  was  growing 
harder.  "You  cannot  love  me  and  suggest  our 
parting  now." 

"Cannot  love  you!  God  only  knows  how 
much  I  do,"  she  answered  through  her  tears. 

"Then  let  us  say  no  more  of  this.  Love  is 
not  lightly  put  aside,  and  our  love  makes  us 
one.  I  am  yours  and  you  are  mine,  and  no 
man  dare  gainsay  it." 

"It  is  not  man,  but  God."  She  drew  her- 
self away  from  him  a  little  way,  looked  in  his 
face,  and  told  him  through  the  tears  that 
choked  her — told  him  so  he  knew  at  last  her 
meaning.  "It  cannot  be;  I  must  return.  This 
is  my  expiation  for  the  sin  of  loving  you." 

"It  is  no  sin — such  love  as  ours,  for  God 
himself  has  made  it."  His  voice  had  sunk  to 
pleading. 

"Perhaps  some  day  in  God's  eternal  daytime 
we  may  be  together,  what  our  hearts  now  make 
us,  one.  But  not  now,  my  love,  not  now,  for 
through  this  world  I  must  continue  bound. 
Through  all  my  life  my  only  hope  outside 


.THE  JUDGMENT  255 

child,  is  for  mercy  from  a  gentle  God.  That  in 
my  unceasing  penance  He  may  see  some  reason 
for  forgiveness,  and,  oh!  my  love — my  love, 
my  love— for  you,  all  I  can  do  is  pray  to  that 
God  of  mercy  that  you  may — forget — "  Her 
fortitude  forsook  her. 

"You  shall  not  go."  He  caught  her  as  she 
tried  to  pass. 

"Oh,  God!  how  hard,"  she  moaned.  "If 
you  would  only  leave  me,  Hal,  instead.  But 
for  me  to  have  to  go— to  say  good-by  to  you — 
to  you  who  mean  all  life  to  me."  Her  tortured 
eyes  told  of  the  struggle  plainer  than  her 
broken  words. 

"A  few  hours,  darling,"  he  begged.  "I 
must  see  you  again,"  with  all  the  hopefulness 
of  love. 

"No,  Hal,  it  must  be  now.  While  yet  I  can, 
I  will.  All  that  I  beg  of  you  is  that  when  your 
suffering  shall  cease,  you  try  to  think  of  me, 
the  best  you  can  for  love's  dear  sake,  and  try — 
oh,  try — to  understand." 

Gregory  took  both  her  hands,  and  compelled 
her  to  look  at  him. 

"Listen,  darling,"  he  said.  "I  am  stronger 
than  you  and  my  strength  shall  prevail.  I  will 
compel  you  to  leave  this  man— and  come  to  me. 
I  will  not  let  you  go." 

A  sudden  terror  of  his  strength  possessed 


256  ,THE  JUDGMENT 

her.  He  released  her  hands,  and  took  her  into 
his  arms. 

"Mine!"  he  said,  low  and  fervently— "Mine, 
and  mine  alone.  You  are  coming  to  me!" 

She  felt  her  will  yielding  to  his.  Then  light 
flashed  into  her  soul — the  way  of  escape  opened. 

"See  me  once  again,"  she  said,  "to-morrow 
night.  If,  after  what  I  have  to  tell  you,  you 
still  say— 'Come' — oh,  my  love,  my  love,  I  will 
obey  you!" 

Gregory  released  her  in  some  surprise. 

"  What  could  you  say  to  me  that  would 
make  me  desire  you  less?"  he  demanded  in- 
credulously. "Eleanor,  this  is  no  subterfuge? 
You  will  see  me  again?" 

"I  swear  it,"  she  answered.  "Leave  me 
now." 

He  looked  at  her.  But  his  momentary  doubt 
forsook  him  when  he  read  her  love  in  the  brim- 
ming eyes  she  lifted  to  his.  Pressing  a  kiss 
upon  her  trembling  lips,  he  left  her. 

For  two  days  Eleanor  lived  in  what  seemed 
to  her  the  nethermost  hell.  She  had  vowed  to 
her  own  soul  what  she  would  do,  but  it  seemed 
impossible. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  Manning 
arrived  unexpectedly. 

"Listen,"  he  said.  "I  want  to  talk  to  you 
about  my  boy. ' ' 


THE  JUDGMENT  257 

Eleanor  shivered. 

"About  his  education,"  Manning  continued. 
"I  have  decided  that  he  must  spend  some  part 
of  every  year  abroad.  Europe  can  give  him 
certain  things,  in  his  youth,  not  to  be  acquired 
later.  Therefore,  we  will  sail  in  two  weeks, 
and  to  that  end  you  must  prepare  to  leave  this 
place  in  a  day  or  so." 

Eleanor  sat  very  still. 

"What  have  you  to  say  against  it?"  Man- 
ning demanded,  impatiently.  "He  will  not  al- 
ways be  a  child,  tied  to  your  apron  strings* 
I  take  thought  for  his  future — for  the  figure 
my  son  will  cut  in  the  world." 

Eleanor  gathered  herself  together  with  an 
immense  effort. 

"I  will  be  ready,"  she  said.  "But  I  ask 
you  to  grant  me  one  favor." 

Manning  softened  at  the  gentleness  of  her 
tone,  and  took  her  in  his  arms.  She  shuddered 
at  his  touch,  but  constrained  herself  to  endure 
it,  that  she  might  gain  her  point. 

"Leave  me  here  for  one  week  longer,  alone 
with  him,"  she  pleaded.  "You  say  truly — he 
has  to  be  fitted  for  a  man's  part  in  the  world. 
But  give  me  this  last  week  of  his  babyhood — 
here." 

"As  you  will,"  replied  her  husband,  caress- 
ing her  ardently.  "In  fact,  I  have  good  rea- 


258  THE  JUDGMENT 

sons  for  taking  the  next  train.  I  foolishly  left 
my  mail  unread  till  after  I  had  started,  and  I 
should  be  in  New  York  now." 

When  she  was  assured  of  his  departure,  El- 
eanor sent  for  Gregory. 

"I  postpone  what  I  had  to  say  to  you  for  a 
few  days,"  she  said,  when  he  reached  her. 
11  Harold,  I  want  to  have  a  week  that  you  will 
remember — when — if — we  part.  I  want  you 
to  see  me  daily,  to  see  Joe  daily,  and  never  once 
to  speak  to  me  of  love.  Will  you  do  this?" 

"I  can  refuse  you  nothing,"  he  answered. 
"But  assure  me,  Eleanor,  that  you  will  not  slip 
away?" 

"I  will  not  slip  away,"  she  replied.  "Come 
with  us  to  the  woods." 

She  caused  a  basket  of  food  to  be  prepared, 
and  taking  the  child,  they  set  forth.  Little  Joe 
was  happier  than  he  had  ever  been  before. 
Gregory  played  with  him  to  his  heart's  con- 
tent. Eleanor,  enthroned  upon  a  moss-covered 
root,  watched  them,  and  forced  the  thought  of 
the  future  from  her  mind.  From  its  dark 
shadow,  she  snatched  this  "fearful  joy"  and 
lived  in  the  sunshine  of  the  present. 

Day  after  day  was  spent  thus— the  uncon- 
scious father,  the  trembling  mother,  the  happy 
child — and  Nature.  Sometimes  both  played 
with  Joe — sometimes,  while  he  slept  upon  her 


THE  JUDGMENT  259 

knee,  Eleanor  talked  to  Gregory  upon  life's 
problems,  and  plunged  with  him  upon  the  deeps 
of  thought.  He,  for  his  part,  kept  his  word, 
and  spoke  not  of  love,  content  with  learning  the 
treasures  of  her  mind,  the  riches  of  her  intel- 
lect. She  would  not  see  him  after  sunset— nor 
in  her  house.  When  he  had  left  her,  and  her 
child  slept,  she  knelt — knelt  for  long  hours, 
gathering  strength  for  love's  last  ordeal. 

The  day  came  when  all  preparations  were 
completed.  Trunks  were  packed,  and  waiting 
at  the  depot.  She  had  seen  Gregory  embrace 
the  boy  for  the  last  time.  But  instead  of  dis- 
missing him,  she  said: 

"Keturn  at  midnight." 

He  looked  at  her  with  surprise,  but  without 
hope — for  the  aspect  of  her  beauty  was  un- 
earthly— spiritual. 

Eleanor  sat  beside  her  sleeping  child  for  a 
time.  Then  she  dressed  her  hair  with  ex- 
treme plainness,  donned  a  black  gown,  and 
waited  for  the  long  hours  to  pass. 

The  household  was  abed,  and  asleep.  No 
window  overlooked  the  little  gate  at  which  she 
admitted  Gregory. 

"Not  here,"  she  said,  as  his  eyes  fell  upon 
the  open  door.  "Just  outside — under  this 
tree.  I  must  be  where  I  can  hear  his  cry — if 
he  should  awake." 


260  THE  JUDGMENT 

The  moonlight  poured  down  upon  them.  She 
seemed  frail  and  shadowy. 

"You  can  tell  me  nothing,"  he  said,  after  a 
silence,  in  which  they  had  given  themselves  up 
to  the  rapture  of  proximity,  "nothing— that 
will  make  me  give  you  up." 

"You  propose,"  she  said,  her  low  sweet 
tones  so  solemn  that  he  started,  "you  propose 
that  I  leave  the  man  to  whom  my  vows  were 
given — and  go  to  you — living  all  my  life  in 
shame  ? ' ' 

"You  are  living  in  shame  now,"  he  told  her. 

"Think  of  my  child,"  she  went  on.  "If  I 
take  him,  he  loses  his  honor  in  the  world's  eyes. 
Yet— can  you  ask  me  to  leave  him!" 

"For  his  sake— I  might,"  was  Gregory's 
answer.  "For  yours,  no.  For  my  own,  no. 
I  love  him  as  if  he  were  my  own." 

Eleanor 's  heart  stood  still :  his  words  seemed 
to  be  an  open  gate  for  her  avowal — and  yet 
they  pierced  her  heart  like  a  sword. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence— and  then  she 
spoke  with  calm  strength. 

"He — is — your  own/" 

Gregory  seized  both  her  hands. 

"What?"  he  cried. 

She  went  on  now,  with  superhuman  power. 

"1  was  that  woman  in  the  darkened  room!" 

He  dropped  her  hands.    The  silence  that  fell 


THE  JUDGMENT  261 

between  them  was  as  some  vast  and  soundless 
gulf.  Across  it  lie  looked  at  her.  She  could 
not  bear  his  glance.  Her  head  drooped,  and 
she  sobbed.  The  sound  smote  him!  He 
recalled — how  vividly — hearing  that  sob  be- 
fore! 

"You!'*  he  gasped,  at  length.  For  he  had 
no  doubt.  Instead,  he  wondered  he  had  never 
guessed  the  truth  before.  Now  he  understood 
his  love  for  little  Joe. 

Eleanor  slipped  to  the  ground  at  his  feet. 

"You  despise  me?"  she  sobbed.  "Oh,  you 
can  never  understand  why  I  did  it !  I  was  mad 
— I  was  driven  mad  by  cruelty — by  injustice. 
I  claimed  a  child— from  life!  The  eternal 
mother  in  me  would  not  be  denied!  My  child 
would  save  me  from  all — would  atone.  And 
oh,  my  love— my  love — you  gave  him  to  me!" 

Gregory  bent  over  her.  He  lifted  her  to  her 
feet,  he  drew  her  in  his  arms. 

"Do  you  think,"  he  said  tensely,  "that  you, 
who  have  been  already  mine— that  my  child — 
shall  ever  leave  me  now?" 

Eleanor  lay  passive  in  his  arms  for  a  mo- 
ment. All  her  strength  would  be  needed  later 
— she  dared  risk  none  in  a  lesser  struggle.  So 
she  waited,  while  he  poured  burning  words  of 
love  into  her  ears — waited,  until  he  ceased, 
marvelling  at  her  stillness,  and  her  silence. 


262  THE  JUDGMENT 

" Speak  to  me!"  he  implored,  at  length. 
Eleanor  drew  away  from  him  and  he  let  her 
go.  She  put  out  her  hand,  blindly  groping  for 
help.  It  touched  a  tree  and  she  leaned  against 
it,  her  head  thrown  back,  the  moonlight  falling 
on  the  ghastly  pallor  of  her  face. 

"Harold,"  she  said  gently.  "Of  all  things 
in  my  life,  I  care  now  most  for  these  few  days 
—in  which  we  have  learned  to  know  each  other 
so  well.  Harold,  when  I  tell  you  that  my  con- 
science is  sore  and  smarting,  you  will  under- 
stand. When  I  say  to  you  that  I  must  obey  it 
— and  cleanse  my  soul  from  sin — you  will  be- 
lieve." 

"Eleanor,"  he  cried,  in  wild  alarm.  But  she 
put  up  her  hand,  and  he  stepped  back  again, 
awed  into  silence. 

"I  had  no  right— to  snatch  my  son!  I  had 
no  right — to  break  my  marriage  vows !  I  have 
sinned,  and  I  must  suffer.  Yea,  I  must  even 
pay  the  uttermost  penalty!" 

"Have  you  not  paid  it?"  asked  Gregory,  de- 
spairingly, for  now  he  knew  her  meaning. 
"Has  not  your  life  been— not  purgatorial  pains 
alone,  but  even  fires  of  hell?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Not  cleansing  fires,  my  beloved.  Not  ac- 
cepted penance.  My  agony  has  been  involun- 
tary— there  has  been  no  merit  in  it  whatso- 


THE  JUDGMENT  263 

ever.  But  now,  I  bend  beneath  the  scourge, 
I  set  the  crown  of  thorns  upon  my  head,  I 
clasp  my  cross  to  my  breast." 

Gregory  uttered  a  groan.  He  knew  that 
against  this  tide  of  pure  and  passionate  re- 
pentance he  was  powerless  to  contend.  She 
went  on,  her  low  sweet  tones  gathering  a  tri- 
umphant strength. 

"My  penance  is— to  keep  my  marriage  vows. 
So  long  as  he  shall  live,  my  place  is  at  his  side 
— my  will  must  bend  to  his." 

"So  long  as  he  shall  live!" 

Gregory  remembered  that  Manning  was  an 
old  man — and  a  ray  of  light  seemed  to  break 
the  darkness  of  the  far  horizon. 

Yet,  looking  at  the  pure  face  before  him,  he 
understood  that  no  such  thought  had  come  to 
Eleanor— that  her  penance  was  unmitigated  by 
any  gleam  of  hope. 

He  made  one  more  desperate  effort  to  re- 
tain her,  vain  though  he  knew  it  to  be. 

"And  my  child!"  he  cried.  "Do  you  think 
I  will  yield  him  to  Manning — even  if  I  have  to 
yield  you?" 

Eleanor's  face  changed.  Her  head  drooped 
wearily. 

"Oh,  this  is  hard  to  say,"  she  murmured. 
"Harold,  you  were  not  without  sin.  This  is 
your  penance — your  share  of  the  Judgment 


264  THE  JUDGMENT 

that  is  upon  us  both.  We  are  one,  you  and  I—- 
together we  have  sinned,  together  we  must 
atone. " 

Harold  Gregory  turned  away.  She  had 
pierced  him  as  with  a  sword — but  it  was  a 
flaming  sword  of  light.  All  his  pleasant  self- 
approbation  was  shriveled  up  in  its  flame.  He 
knew  that  he  had  sinned— and  he  bowed  before 
her  truth. 

"You  are  right, "  he  groaned,  and  dropped 
into  the  low  chair  from  which  she  had  arisen. 
"How  shall  I  bear  it?" 

Eleanor  moved  swiftly  forward,  and  laid  her 
hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"You  will  know  he  is  with  me — that  I  will 
not  let  him  forget  you.  And  when  he  reaches 
manhood,  and — he—" 

By  her  shudder  Gregory  knew  she  spoke  of 
Manning — 

"—can  never  know — then,  all  the  wealth  that 
he  bequeathed  to  Joe  shall  be  given  for  some 
great  and  noble  purpose — and  if — if —you  want 
us-?" 

She  stopped,  in  sad  humility. 

" — if,"  he  cried,  rising,  and  taking  her 
hands.  "I  shall  but  live — " 

He  checked  himself.  He  would  not  mar  the 
perfectness  of  her  pure  atonement  with  even  a 
hint  of  a  half  guilty  hope. 


THE  JUDGMENT  265 

They  held  each  other's  hands,  and  gazed  into 
each  other's  eyes  in  the  silver  moonlight.  And, 
in  that  solemn  hour,  there  was  born,  in  the 
man's  heart,  a  loftier  love.  It  was  as  if  the 
gates  of  Time,  Space  and  Mortality  opened 
wide,  to  reveal  the  deathless  sweep  of  the  Vast 
Eternal.  And  across  those  parted  portals  they 
saw  themselves  hand  in  hand— with  none  be- 
tween ! 

He  did  not  again  take  her  in  his  arms,  or 
press  his  lips  to  hers.  Spirit  gazed  upon  spirit 
through  their  purified  eyes — and  the  anguish 
that  must  come  later  was  held  in  abeyance,  as 
they  stood,  side  by  side,  upon  the  mountain- 
tops  of  being,  earthly  desire,  and  passion,  con- 
quered, at  their  feet. 

So  they  stood,  and  the  moments  passed  un- 
heeded. Then,  they  were  recalled  to  earth  by  a 
cry! 

"Mudder!" 

Gregory  gave  one  glance  of  love  and  longing 
towards  the  opened  window  whence  the  sound 
came — one  glance  of  uttermost  adoration  at 
the  woman  before  him.  Then  he  turned,  and 
left  her.  At  the  gate,  he  paused  long  enough 
to  hear  her  words:  "Mother's  coming,  dar- 
ling," before  he  closed  it  behind  him— and  went 
out  into  the  desert  of  the  world — alone! 

Eleanor,  waiting  till  the  gate  closed,  heard 


266  THE  JUDGMENT 

the  sound  and  felt  it  as  a  lash  upon  her  naked 
heart.  Then,  ascending  the  stairs  to  find  the 
child,  she  murmured: 

"Thy  Judgment,  0  God,  hath  overwhelmed 
me!" 


THE  END 


. 


